Gnawing Hunger
by SneverusSnapers
Summary: Rich girl Kara finds herself immersed in the world of the Hunger Games with the girl who killed her mother. She wants revenge and the arena will provide it for her, but does she have the stomach to kill her old friend especially when the truth comes out?
1. Chapter 1 Kara And Vivian

**Hello all! Just warning you – the beginning isn't nearly as good as the rest; it gets a lot better, just bear with it. Please? This chapter is my least favourite, so please read up to the end of the next one at least, the more you read the more you get into it, I promise.**

Every morning I look at myself in the mirror, seeing myself grow up. I used to be just a tiny toddler, blonde hair tussled into bunches, but gradually I grew. My freckles that used to be spread like an infection across my face have died down to a few beauty spots. My hair which used to be thick like straw thinned out so it shines in the light like gold leaf. My face, how it used it be chubby and babyish, but no longer. I grew taller and thinner, less childish, more like an adult. Until I look like I am today. Serious. Unreadable. Powerful.

I always have noted my appearance. My friends, well; I wouldn't call them friends, always said I was vain, and had right to be. I disagree. I'm patient. I like to see how things change, grow around me into a climax while I just stay there, listening, waiting, like a hunter for its prey.

That's what I've done all my life. Wait. And that's what I do now. Wait patiently by my father's room like I do every morning, tray in hand with the usual assortments of pastries and a hot mug filled with a peculiar herbal drink. Some people would work for days just for my father's breakfast. Some of them are at school with me. I shake my head of such thoughts and knock again, in case he hasn't heard me. But I soon learn he has by the sliding of a bolt and the hurried gabble out of my father's mouth.

"Come in, come in," My father looks at me with frantic eyes after quickly glancing down the corridor. "You took your time."

"Yes, well I had to get by the extra precautions you set up. I mean, who's going to steal a knife from our own kitchen to use to stab you?" I shake my head as I set down they tray on the sturdy oak table, "They'd just bring one from their house, and anyway, how's a padlock going to stop them? The last lot had inside help. _Remember_?"

_The last lot,_ the words hang in my throat as I process what I have just said; and the scorn in which I had addressed my father. I look at him pleadingly for forgiveness but he only seems upset, not angry. It seems his capability of being angry has drained in the past year. Though I am patient I do tend to speak before I have fully processed what I am saying. I look back up at father and though he smiles warmly back at me I know he's trying hard not to break down. _The last lot,_ they came on that dreadful night; the night my mother was killed.

My father seems to be thinking along the same lines so he looks at me and sighs. "Only a year ago and yet it feels like a lifetime. It was my fault, Kara, they were after me. I can never stop blaming myself." He adjusts his glasses over his faded face and strokes his greying hair. I have no answer for that, I just stand there, gazing at the wreck my father has become in this one short year. His hair was jet black like a stallion at night but now has worn down with the rest of him. Father was a tall, charismatic man with a strong character and an even stronger taste for expensive art. But since mother died he has been slowly fading away, hiding himself inside his massive body; it would take a miracle or a masterpiece to draw him out of his shell even for just one day. So we just stare at each other in silence. Neither of us mentions the reaping or the pain that it holds in our hearts.

I make my mouth twitch into a pathetic attempt at a smile and slowly back out of the room to give both myself and my father some space. As soon as the silver handle has clicked shut I exhale loudly only to find myself staring right at Vivian. I give her my most scornful look possible to ward off the hatred that is pouring out of her towards me and I raise my voice to its most regal.

"Don't you have something to do?" I ask condescendingly "You got out of the job of bringing Lord Jaymond his breakfast since he didn't trust you any more so I expect you have filled it up with a more suitable task such as mucking out the horses."

With that I turn my heel at her and strut off in the other direction even though the kitchen is the other way and I wanted to have some breakfast before the reaping. _Lord Jaymond. _I chuckle to myself. What a name, I only ever use that in the presence of the girls who call themselves my friends because I know it will scare them more, make them feel more uncomfortable so they'll hopefully go and leave me alone so I can practice with my knife or sit patiently and think. Of course that never happens. The incentive of money is too great and to them I practically stink of the stuff. It's not my fault. I didn't choose to be born into a rich family. But I get so fed up of all those people who hang around me in hope of a handout. The only person my age who isn't like that is Vivian and she isn't my friend. I'm surprised that my father kept onto her after what she did. But he had a talk to me and said we were going to give her another chance and not hand her into the authorities. I almost laughed. He is the authorities. Well, it was either laughing or crying. Vivian was the one who had let the men in; the men who had come to kill my father, the men who had ended up killing my mother.

I end up in my room. I don't know how. I just was walking and suddenly I find myself here. This is my sanction, where I can escape from the world and be myself. I throw my knife in here, and sing. I love singing, no matter if I'm not so good at it. I feel myself humming to a tune as I try to pick out a dress from the many I have packed against each other in my sturdy wardrobe. Finally I settle on a simple white dress with gold lining around the hem and a neck made out of lace, rather plain compared to some of my more intricate clothes. I never, ever wear necks on dresses because they don't suit me but I find this one somehow does. The simplicity in the design overpowers me but that isn't the reason I choose this dress. I choose this dress because it was what my mother wore on her fourth reaping. When she was fifteen just like I am, when she met my father.

Her best friend had just been picked to enter the hunger games, the same hunger games in which she would be brutally stabbed by a fellow District eight. But no-one so much as talked to her. No-one even looked at her. They just went on with their business, averting their eyes and keeping quiet in their conversations. But my father noticed and he went up to her. They'd never really met before. He'd only seen her at school with the other girl but that was about it. They apparently knew of each other's existence, but not much more than that. He was rich, so was she but the similarities ended there. He went right up to my mother and hugged her. She was so startled she almost fell over but he steadied her and the few words he said to her were 'I'm sorry, so sorry', then he went along with his daily business like nothing had happened. But it had, and she never forgot him after that, not ever.

I sit down, without myself noticing I seem to have been standing up for the past half hour, thinking. I don't know why. I haven't been myself recently. I haven't been myself since my mother died. I quietly slip on a pair of flat golden shoes, bend down to the floor and unhook a floorboard. It's where I keep my special things. There's not very many of those, but I know what I'm looking for. I grasp it with my finger and hook it out. The ring mother gave to me the day before she died. It is a simple thing, a gold loop with a sapphire welded into it but I know it would have cost a lot more than a year's wages for the average working man so I carefully slide it onto my finger and raise it to the light. The sapphire from District one sparkles in the light just like my mother's eyes used to and just like mine do when I'm happy. No, more than happy. My eyes have stopped sparkling since mother died and I don't think they ever will again. I feel tears welling up in my eyes as I think about my mother but all I do is sigh and suppress my emotions. I find myself singing suddenly, it's what I do when I'm nervous or upset. This song is something I made up just after my mother died. It calmed my nerves then, about her death and should calm mine now, about the reaping even though really I shouldn't be worried, it's not like I'm going to be picked.

_One day I'll realize all your troubles,_

_One day I'll understand,_

_Sometime I'll do just as you do,_

_It will be my last stand,_

_Why do you never listen?_

_Why do you act then think?_

_Sometime I'll join in too,_

_When I'll be on the brink,_

_How did you end up like this?_

_How did you forget me?_

_Sometime I'll add to your numbers,_

_Then like you I'll just leave,_

_I was poor and abandoned,_

_I was shivering alone,_

_Sometime I'll understand and do so,_

_I'll join you in your zone,_

_I still need a mother,_

_I still want you back,_

_Sometime I'll die too, I think,_

_Enter the everlasting black._

I stop singing and feel my heart beat slowly steadying back to a pace. I open the door a crack and look out. No-one's around. Good. I don't want any of my so-called friends turning up and going on and on about how the ring matches my eyes, the lace improves my neck line and so on. I'm just about to exit the room when I slip back in with a sudden thought, slide my fingers back under the floorboard and pull out my knife. It isn't like most of my things, fancy and elaborate. No, it's a plain knife with a wooden handle modelled to fit my hand. Not a speck of rust can be seen or ever will be on the hilt; it's my most treasured possession after my mother's ring. I twirl it in my fingers, as if pondering something, then let it fly at my target on the wall; bulls-eye. Of course, what else would I get with my knife? I run my fingers along the smooth wood once more and feel the need to keep it with me, as if its sharp point could save me from the reaping, so I tuck it up my sleeve so it can be drawn out easily. I don't know why, I just have this feeling that I'll need it. In a final decision before I exit the room I raise my hand and yank my almost golden hair out of its long-lasting ponytail and feel it caressing my skin like silk. There, now I'm ready for the reaping. I drop the band on the floor; someone will pick it up for me, and head off to the town square.


	2. Chapter 2  The Reapings

**Oh yeah, the hunger games belong to Suzanne Collins (before I take over) so give her some credit too, OK? Please review because I want to know who is reading this and I've finished it, yes, but I'm going back over it and correcting typos so if yous till spot any or plot mistakes or something that doesn't make any sense please tell me now before it's too late! (It gets better - I promised you)**

I get there just before the reaping's about to start and take my place among the common folk. Vivian is there, her beady eyes bearing into mine as if to say that she wishes that my name will be drawn out. I simply raise an eyebrow as if to remind her that she is more likely to be picked out than me since although she is almost the same age as me, just one year older, she has applied for tesserae.

Let me explain. You are entered into the reaping every year, from when you're twelve and up till when you're eighteen. But each entry is accumulative (the last year's is added on) so it's more likely an eighteen year-old will be picked than a twelve year-old. But you can apply for tesserae, which is one person's meagre supply of grain and oil for a year, in exchange for extra entries in the reaping. Therefore, for each tessera, one extra entry is placed in the reaping ball meaning the poor are almost always the ones reaped.

Vivian bites her lip and looks away. Suddenly I feel quite guilty because I've never had to apply for tesserae but I ignore the feeling and brush it away because it has nothing to do with me. Luckily I do possess one virtue, patience, so I stand here in the town square, a usually jolly place, filled with laundry hung out to dry and cloth ready for cutting. But now all I feel is the air that has gone stale in our mouths and the hatred to the capital for doing this to me – to all of us.

Suddenly in a burst of colour our dear hunger games announcer bounces on, seemingly oblivious of the pure hatred seeping out of the crowd towards her. She's called Debbie Sparkle and I actually feel quite sad for her. Her chubby body and braided rainbow hair really have no idea what she's putting us through. She looks on the games as a celebration as we are forced to see it and beckons off the stage which is a platform which has been hastily propped up, for the old District eight champions to enter. In the last seventy years of the hunger games district eight has only had four champions, two of which are still alive today.

First on stage is Hercules Stayton, and he really does live up to his name. The only vaguely human part of him you can see is his squashed face; the rest of him is just a solid wall of muscle, bulging out in places you didn't even know existed in a human body. Apparently in the hunger games he crushed two opponents at once, one in each hand. Everyone in district eight crosses the street to avoid him and although he is much richer than me, which is a benefit of being a victor, he has no so-called admirers or fake friends. I guess that's one advantage of being tough, everyone's always scared of you.

He is followed by Lumina Carter, a small girl who has withdrawn herself from everyone. Her pale brown eyes scan the audience as if looking for someone, and then suddenly she looks down quickly, like she had been found doing something she shouldn't have. Despite her current appearance, Lumina was quite clever and self-reliant back in her hunger games when she hid in trees and waited, played for time as the others killed each other off, pinching berries off trees and such until forced to confront the others by one of the Gamemaker's deadly traps. But soon she proved she was as good with a knife as well as her brain and stormed a victory after killing only three people in the whole games, one of them out of mercy in the final two when she was with her district partner.

I look at them both and feel sick, especially Hercules who is still trying desperately to keep up appearances, even expanding his gigantic muscle collection. But I soon stop thinking about them and start thinking about me. Will I be picked? Not very likely; but of course, you can't stop worrying when your neck might be on the line.

"Now to pick our lots!" pronounced Debbie Sparkle in her lofty Capitol accent. "But there's a slight change in schedule."

We all freeze. What was going on? There is never a change in 'schedule'. We've listened through the boring mayor droning on about the history of Panem, the rebels and how the Capitol is so marvellous, so now we are to draw the lots of which poor twelve to eighteen year-old gets sucked into the hunger games. What's going on? What has the capitol done? The tension out there is thick; so thick you could almost cut it with a knife. At this thought I automatically feel to my sleeve of my dress and the cold metal pressing against my barely tanned skin.

"The capitol has decreed." Debbie sneers "That, for this year alone, due to the unfair physical advantage from boys over girls that..."

As Debbie pauses I look around, just to see that people are as confused as I am. This isn't a quarter quell which happens every twenty-five years. Nothing special is meant to happen now, it's meant to go on like usual. I don't like the sound of this, not at all.

"One district will put forward two girls instead of a boy and a girl, and that district has been chosen by none other than President Snow himself to be this district."

My mouth opens like a gaping hole and I can almost feel the murmurs vibrating through the crowd. I gaze around in amazement to see what everyone else is doing. Everyone looks just about as genuinely stunned as I am at the revelation. The boys look relieved. I guess I would be too if it was the other way round. But it isn't and my chances of being picked have just doubled.

"Excuse me," Debbie barges past Hercules who also looks dumbfounded and then, without an inkling of what is running through all our minds, she points at the girls' reaping ball and shoves her podgy hand in, gives it a good rummage and removes it with a slip of paper. She coughs as if to build up the tension but we all stare at her dumbly as if she was talking to a field full of cattle, not a town square full of confused people.

"The first female participant in this year's seventieth hunger games is... Vivian Hall." Debbie pauses, "Vivian Hall? Is there a Vivian Hall anywhere?"

_Vivian? Don't I know someone called Vivian? _Then it hits me. Vivian! I can't believe it, I just can't believe it. I was thinking about her being reaped as some sort of wild fantasy but now it's a reality which I am faced with, a reality I don't want to have to confront. Slowly and surely Vivian stands up, her face blank with concentration and effort not to burst into tears. But it shows. She looks as if she had just been stabbed by a best friend and her life force is slowly draining away from her bit by bit. I guess in a way it has. No way is Vivian going to survive the games. It isn't possible. It will be one of the Careers, the children who train for the hunger games even though you aren't meant to, they can't prove you've been training. They'll look like Hercules, but be a lot, lot worse.

I'm not sad. In fact I'm happy, and I hate myself for it. Vivian got my mother killed so it's time she's killed too. And it makes me angry to say it, even just to myself. What a heartless monster I have become. But Debbie will sort me out, stupid Debbie with her podgy hands, groping around inside the ball, stupid Debbie reading out a stupid name and the stupid people of District eight gasping; and the name, that stupid name, being whispered, so hard to catch, so hard to hear; until finally I hear it and I'm surprised too. The name.

Kara Jaymond.

Me.


	3. Chapter 3 K A R A

**By the way, I am really bad at writing songs, but I find the story is empty without them, so you'll have to put up with them for now. They leech down when you get to later chapters because I think they were the least part of this overall so I acted on the input I was given by you readers – I always do and I read and re-read every review. Twice. (Yes, I re-read it twice) because I treasure them so much.**

I stand up just like Vivian did and just like Vivian I slowly creep towards the stage. My feet are stuck to the ground like hot tar and it feels like I'm moving in honey by the effort it takes to move further towards the stage while all of my wild animal instincts are screaming at me to run and bolt away, away from the stage, away from here. Yet I know I can't happen so I move onwards, feeling all the eyes on me, scanning me. They know me. Well, no, they don't, but they've heard of me. Kara Jaymond, Lord Jaymond's daughter, and her maid. What a funny pair that is, they'll say in the evening's celebrations, while my father will close the shutters and sob quietly. He's just lost a wife, now a daughter too. How will he manage? Who will he give his trust to now?

I close my eyes. There are more important matters. Right now the whole of Panem is watching me, judging me, through the cameras poised around the square. The camera's whose lenses zoom in at my face; each mere shuffle may be the move that defies my death, the lenses representing the eyes of thousands, millions of people; millions who are going to watch me die. _Weakness is not an option_, I tell myself. You show weakness and you're dead. Just like that. _I need sponsors_, I think, rich capitol people, they'll bet on me winning and sponsor me through this. I open my eyes and I can feel the blue blazing through them, roaring through my soul and lighting up the fire of passion inside me. I flick my hair out of my eyes in the direction of the sun so people can see my face and remember me. It just looks stupid but I continue with it anyway. I speak slowly, purposefully, measuring each word as I step up to the stage.

"That's me. Kara, I mean." I've started to stumble. I can't let Debbie take over now; I've got to make an impression. I clear my throat and put on the most regal accent I can muster, trying to add a hint of the lofty Capitol accent as well. "So looks like I'm fighting with my maid then."

Score. I've hit something. I don't know what. Maybe it's my calm or the fact I sound so posh, but Debbie seems to have related with me. Not district eight, they're just staring at me like I'm mad, but Debbie, and a couple of the camera people who are from the Capitol, they're smiling. I smile back. The most dazzling, winning smile I've ever given and it makes my mouth ache but I don't stop until I fear I may look stupid. Then I realize no-one has said anything.

"Do go on." I say, and it feels great. I'm giving them permission to continue with their own show. I've taken control here. "Don't let me stop these wonderful proceedings." I back up, not removing the smile until Debbie coughs.

"Yes, as you say... Clara." Debbie is struggling for the stage

"Kara" I interrupt. There's a ripple of laughter across the stage and I decide to play the boss "K-A-R-A." I pronounce 'a' almost like 'e', the Capitol way.

"Thank you." As Debbie seems to be losing her cool I smile sweetly at her and mime zipping my mouth. The laughter's a bit louder this time and more truthful. No-one's going to forget me, the Capitol will love me; other people from districts will hate me. But that doesn't matter because the sponsors are from the Capitol, not the districts. The Capitol are the people who matter.

"Back to the show." Debbie nods and I reluctantly accept her decision, winking at the camera slightly as I step backwards as Debbie continues.

I stand there on stage, chipping in every now and then, when I realize Vivian hasn't done anything and her eyes have gone puffy and red, as if swollen. She's been crying. _Time to undermine the opposition_, I think and wait for a pause. There, Hercules has finished his bit and Lumina's taking her time. I step forward, using my hand as I would a fan and say to Vivian, though I am addressing the whole of Panem.

"Fetch me a drink will you maid," Vivian is shooting me dark looks as I go on, "It's just I'm absolutely toasting up here!"

Even Debbie laughs but Vivian steps forward and I can feel that something has gone terribly wrong somewhere along the line.

"Yes," Vivian curtsies, "Ma'am, what do you want, the usual, with a drop of nightlock perhaps?"

Now people are laughing, at me. This isn't meant to happen. I realize I've been acting cocky just to stop myself from bursting into tears, but as a result people aren't taking me seriously. So I'm going to have to change that. Make them realise I'm a force to be reckoned with. Make them realise I'm dangerous. Make them realise that I, Kara Jaymond, am a victor standing right here, right now. I feel my heartbeat slow into a calm state and as quick as lightning I whip the knife out of my sleeve, dash over to Vivian and press it against her throat.

"The usual please, but I'll get my maid to test it first." My voice has ground to a low rumble and my face, seconds ago light and fluffy has crunched down hard and is as solid as rock.

"No contestants may harm each other before the arena!" Debbie shrieks, panic folded through her voice as she dashes towards the two of us.

"I guess I'll just have to wait then." I say, my voice dripping with hatred, the posh almost Capitol accent completely obliterated. Slowly, purposefully, I withdraw the knife and stick it back up the sleeve of my dress. I hold my dark look for a moment longer and turn back to the camera, all smiles again.

"Don't let me hold you up." I say, my voice as sweet and sickly as syrup again. So now I'm unpredictable, a good trait in the hunger games. People aren't laughing now. They have seen something else in me, something darker; something dangerous.

After the initial shock the awkward silence is saved by Lumina who chips in with an 'in answer to your previous question' like nothing had just happened. But it had. And everyone knows it.

I'm escorted off by armed guards towards some sort of plush cell, or 'meeting room' as they like to call it. Everything is filmed so I've sealed my fate acting like a posh but dangerous Capitol brat for the next week or two before the games. Luckily they won't film me saying goodbye to anyone who wants to see me or I'd give it away. I sigh as I finally sit down and notice my legs have been shaking the whole time. I hope no-one noticed or the game is up. I wait patiently for my father to come. I actually feel really nervous, and realise that this is the first time I've had to myself since the reaping. I can't cry. I mustn't cry. I bite my lip and try to concentrate on something else, anything else. My voice starts to become active and suddenly I find myself singing. Usually what I sing is meaningless gibberish but this time I recognise the song. It's what my mother used to sing to me when I was a baby to calm me down and get me to sleep. It's not exactly a lullaby though, it's about how a hunter kills a powerless prey, and it can't get away. It just has to die and accept its fate.

_Let's sing a song of a thousand wonders,_

_Let's sing a song of a million days,_

_Let's sing a song of a deadly hunter,_

_Let's sing a song of a helpless prey,_

_Let's sing a song of a poor heart beating,_

_Let's sing a song of a hound so hateful,_

_Let's sing a song of a hunter creeping,_

_Let's sing a song of a tale so awful,_

_Let's sing a song of a rifle loading,_

_Let's sing a song of a prey that dashes,_

_Let's sing a song of a hunter aiming,_

_Let's sing a song of a gun that flashes,_

_Let's sing a song of a doe's heart stopping,_

_Let's sing a song of a hunter's cheer,_

_Let's sing a song of a knife chopping,_

_Let's sing a song of a now dead deer._

I bite back tears when I finish the song. That's what I feel like now, hunted, if I run I'll die, if I stay put I'll die. I'm completely helpless so I might as well stay where I am. So I wait for my father to enter. When the door opens I almost shout 'father' before I notice it isn't him. It's Lumina. What's she doing here? She's going to coach me later so I don't need or want to see her now. She looks at me as if seeing me for the first time, examining me, and finally speaks.

"You've either done something very, very stupid or something very, very clever. I haven't decided which one yet but I hope for your sake it's the latter." She speaks as if she's lost in thought.

I nod and she sees I'm more scared than I let out so she smiles knowingly and leaves.

Then my father rushes in, practically barging her out of the way. He doesn't even seem bothered for his own safety any more, like there is nothing left living for.

"Kara, oh Kara, what have you done?" He stares at me just like Lumina so I give him a feeble smile. "You can't pretend forever you know; they're going to find out what you're really like."

"I know." I say and I really do. Each second I think about it the more stupid I seem to myself.

"But you know what?" My father cracks a smile, making me even more confused. "It means I can turn your room into that dream study I always wanted."

This time my smile is real at his attempt at cheering me up which strangely seemed to work and I give him a tight hug. Then I reach up my sleeve and withdraw my dagger, looking at it pitifully. "Take it." I say; my voice serious as I almost push it into his hands, forcing it away from me with effort, "They'll just throw it away, and I can't have that. Have it as something to remember me by."

"I'll keep it safe for your return." My father says even though he knows it's just buttered lies and that there's no chance I'm going to return. He suddenly holds up a finger and rummages in his pockets. "And I'll have to find you a token."

Each person who enters the arena can have a token, a keep safe so to speak to remind them of home. It hadn't crossed my mind but I already knew what I wanted.

"Forget it, dad." _Dad,_ I haven't called him that since mother died. "I have one already." And with that I wave my finger at him showing him my ring.

"Yes." My father smiles, "Yes, perfect."

Then a guard comes in and tells him he has to go but he asks for one more second and he hugs me and whispers in my ear 'I love you, Kara, I love you.'

And before I answer he's being dragged out and I'm screaming and screaming 'I love you, I love you!', but he hasn't heard, he just hasn't heard, so with that I swear to myself that I'll survive the games, go back and tell him yes, that I love him. That I love him very much.

Not surprisingly none of my so-called friends have come to see me; they probably have already found another unlucky rich girl maybe with a few less wits and a few more pennies. I shake my head in disgust and sit in the cell (no matter if they call it a meeting room, it's still a cell to me) and wait to be told there are no more visitors to see me, and I can go onto the train, travel to the Capitol, get myself modelled up, have my opening ceremony, go through training, do an interview, enter the hunger games, win the hunger games and go home. But I know between which two steps on my 'to do' list I will fail. I may enter the hunger games, but I'll never win.


	4. Chapter 4  Train Ride

The rest is a bit of a blur, I think I'm too shocked to do anything so I go onto automatic mode. I walk, smile and exchange polite small talk in my posh accent, gradually toning it down so hopefully by the time I enter the games it will be one less obstacle to overcome. The cameras seem to suck up every second of me but I don't give them too much and leave them hanging, desperate for more about the strange new girl from district eight. They won't see me for a few more days, anyhow.

Finally I get onto the train. I've only ever been on a train once and that was a bit of a rust bucket, but this is a sleek, chic modern wonder equipped with a massive self service buffet and a gigantic compartment just for me. It's about twice the size of my room and that's big. I smile politely at Debbie as she tells me to get changed. I have a luxury shower which does something weird to my hair afterwards making it go as light and fluffy as candy floss, a Capitol treat I had once heard about from my mother, but still manages to make it look golden and radiant and somehow it looks longer, coming well past my shoulders. I then quickly whip into one of the extraordinary selection of outfits they had laid out for me. I finally decide to settle upon a short dark purple dress that goes well above the knees because I decide it would probably annoy Debbie and I want that very much. Finally I take a look in the mirror, try on some lipstick, which you only wear for really special occasions; deciding I can do without, washing it off and setting off in search of the promised buffet all while loving the blissful feeling of my bare feel sinking into the fluffy carpet.

When I do get there I see everyone is waiting for me so I give an apologetic smile, sit down, and look at all of them.

"We're not being filmed on the train or in training correct?" I say, keeping my lofty accent as a precaution, getting straight to the point,

"No." Said Debbie, "But that doesn't mean you can just..."

"Good." I say in my normal accent, ignoring Debbie's gaping mouth, "Because I have a few things to say. First, then, it was all an act. So I didn't mean to offend anyone." I decided while I was in the shower I would have to add that in for Vivian's benefit, "But I want to win and if I have to pretend to be someone I'm not then so be it."

Surprisingly Hercules is the first to say anything, breaking the stunned silence set up by Debbie, "I know. I did it." He looks at Lumina and waits till she nods, "We both did it. In the arena if you're not someone with enough character then you won't take the screen shots or the sponsors."

I look at him, surprised that both he and Lumina think that way. But then I get it. Hercules isn't really a terrifying solid block of muscle but he had to act that way to win. I know Lumina was never really a fearless expert at survival, and how she acted recently shows that, but Hercules had kept up the look because it suited him, probably made him feel secure. The only person looking shocked is Debbie.

"You made all that up? So you're just like the rest of them?" She asks, clearly petrified, pointing a chubby finger at Vivian before stroking her hair which has carefully been arranged into rainbow braids.

"My father _is_ Lord Jaymond, the most influential man in District eight and retired head peacekeeper." I stammer, my eyes pleading at Debbie, begging for an apology, "But I don't act that way at all. The most natural form of me you saw was when I threatened Vivian."

Debbie coughs and looks between me and Vivian, clearly contemplating something. I gaze at her and she finally asks the question that's been on the end of her tongue for so long, "So you actually get on well, then?"

I glance at Vivian, letting her know that I want her to be the one to answer. Vivian raises an eyebrow like I did back when we were at the reaping and I was being so disdainful and she pauses, as if for effect.

"We never got on especially well." I could see Vivian picking through her words carefully, "But that doesn't mean we'd want to kill each other." I see Vivian glance at me and I give her an approving smile.

"No. That was just was one big charade for publicity. Wasn't it?" I ask, my eyes tearing through her.

"Yes." Says Vivian, "Yes, I suppose it was."

The next morning I wake up. My purple dress has been pressed and I find myself in some silken Capitol pyjamas. I can't remember putting them on. Then an awful thought crosses my mind. What if I didn't? What if someone else did? I shake my head and try to get rid of the thought. Nudity is no big deal in the hunger games, and that should be the least of my worries at the moment. I groggily pass my mind back to last night and remember eating to my heart's content and more. I stroke my belly. It's never felt so full, and on such rich food too! I slip back into the purple dress, even though I am getting rather tired of that particular colour, it doesn't flatter me at all. Suddenly the gravity of what is going on hits me full on. Was it really just twenty four hours ago I was bringing my father his breakfast, an array of pastries with a herbal brew? My lip starts bleeding; I wonder what has caused it until I realize that I have been viscously biting down on it so give it a rest. But now with nothing to bite down on I'm shaking like a leaf. I am absolutely terrified. I wonder what to do now to calm me down. All I can think of is singing, so I open my mouth and sing the first thing that comes into my head. It's a quirky, upbeat love song about a boy who likes you and you really don't like him, unlike everyone else.

_You just have to say my name, don't you?_

_Of all the thousand girls,_

_You just have to pick out me, don't you?_

_You don't want a glistening pearl,_

_You just have to select me, don't you?_

_The one that'll be no good,_

_You just have to draw out me, don't you?_

_The one with the terrible mood,_

_You just have to seal my fate, don't you?_

_The girl who's downright crazy,_

_You just have to ruin my life, don't you?_

_I don't want to be your 'baby',_

I stop. This is reminding me too much of the reaping and how I'm the one who just has to be selected, whatever the chances. Even though the song is about totally different things I still don't feel too comfortable singing it as it reminds me of how helpless I am. I sigh and am about to exit the room to go to breakfast when I hear the impatient voice of Vivian outside my room, yapping away at someone. I get up and press my ear to the door, listening to the conversation.

"No! No!" That must be Vivian, "Listen, I don't care what you think. I'm _not_ keeping up the poor serving maid turns evil act!"

"But it's so good." Purrs a voice; is that Debbie? I think so. "You'll get a lot more sponsors if you have a cause, and what better cause than revenge?"

"Revenge?" Vivian's voice is getting louder, "What do you mean revenge? I don't want to do it!"

"Come on sugar," That's Debbie alright, "Just think about it, OK?"

"OK, but I'm not stabbing Kara in the back or anything."

"Did I mention Kara?"

"No, but you were implying it."

"Was I sugar?"

I have just about had enough of this. I burst out of the room, my arms crossed. When Debbie and Vivian see me they jump back away from each other, alarmed. I shrug as if I couldn't care less and waltz off to breakfast. Everyone has to have their secrets, Vivian, me, everyone.

When I get to breakfast and see the vast spread of rich food with only Lumina tucking into it I think my stomach does a back flip. After last night's feast I'm learning that this is quite the norm in the Capitol as I greedily shove a croissant in my mouth, it's still warm. I help myself to another and am gorging myself on it when I remember where I am and how I'm meant to be behaving. I sit back up regally at the table and slice the croissant into little bits, slowly dissecting it and feeding it politely into my mouth; Lumina smiles.

"You looked like you were enjoying yourself there," she chuckles, "You can continue like that before Debbie gets here; she's a stickler for manners."

I nod and manage to finish two more croissants, a bagel, a tart and at least a pot of jam between them before Vivian enters.

"About earlier..." she sighs at me, almost reluctant to speak.

"It's fine." I murmur. It isn't bothering me; she turned down the backstabbing role anyway.

Vivian nods. We don't talk for the rest of the meal. Then I feel the train beginning to slow down and I look questionably at Lumina.

"You'll meet your stylists now." She explained. "Whatever they want you to do, do it."

"But..." Vivian starts

"Listen to them, they'll help you." Hercules enters the room with an awkward grin, "Even though it may not seem like that at the time."

We both nod. They're on our side after all, even if they are from the Capitol. The train grinds to a halt as Debbie enters the room. She doesn't say anything and just looks us up and down, nods, and then walks off.

Hercules beckons me and Vivian over.

"Do you have any skills you want to come clean about?" He asks, and then turns to me "Thanks to your show in the square we all know you can use a knife, just not how well."

I shrug, "I've used a knife all my life, can always hit bulls-eye no matter how far away, and I'm pretty nifty in close combat."

Hercules nods and looks at Vivian expectantly.

"Me?" Vivian smirks, "I'm just an ordinary maid, and all I can do is butter toast. Though I guess I'm quite strong, I doubt anything compared to those giants in the arena, but I can handle a knife too, and am quite good with plants and what-not. I've worked as a living so I am accustomed to fatigue and hunger, unlike some people. I guess you'd call me an all rounder."

Hercules smiled, "Maybe we've got a winner this year." He looked at both of us expectantly. "Well, off to your stylists, don't want to keep them waiting."

Vivian trots off and I look at Hercules questionably and then join her to go and meet my styling team.


	5. Chapter 5  Styling

I stand here, naked, my styling team prodding me with god knows what and ripping hair off me from places I didn't even know could have hair until today. I feel as if they are taking away my skin, which I guess in a way they are. While ripping off hair they also deal with dead skin, nails, spots, and, of course, dirt. I end up feeling like a prune that has just been puffed out and stripped of its skin. Luckily I don't look so bad that my stylist has decided for me to have plastic surgery or anything so radical, I remember one hunger games, in the opening ceremony I couldn't tell who this boy was until I realized the plastic look he had on him was actually plastic and he had looked so bad they'd rebuilt his whole face. I didn't remember any particularly bad looking boys at the reaping ceremony either.

"Look at all that dirt!" Shrieks Claudia, a Capitol woman with a snooty accent, whose skin is so white I swear she has dyed it with bleach or something terribly Capitol like that. Bart, my other designer sniffs distastefully as he uses a Hoover type object to suck up all the dirt off me from under the nails and such other places. I can't see his problem with appearances since he looks like an over-ripe tomato himself, his skin a dark maroon and his hair a floppy faded yellow-green which gives the appearance of mould.

"All the other styling teams have three assistants!" he whined "But no, if one of us chooses to quit last minute we can't have a replacement, we're just too low! If it was District one they'd have a replacement in a snap!"

I smile through gritted teeth and speak in a diluted version of my original posh accent which had been aimed to please.

"You're doing wonderfully, even without a replacement." I say, digging my nails into my palms as the pain gets too much.

"Oh, thank you!" Coos Claudia as she tweaks off half my eyebrow, I wince due to the pain but don't say anything. "In fact, I think we're almost done here."

It takes another two hours of primping and pruning before my designer is eventually called in, and even then I am told that I'm not prepared to the best of my abilities. Finally a tall, thin man walks into the room. His hair is a pale blonde, as if bleached but the rest of him looks completely natural. I stare amazed at his bronzed body and the amount of ease seeping out of him. I immediately feel self conscious and want to turn away but I do as I am asked to keep still and quiet. The man hums as he reaches my front and spends an overdue amount of time looking at my chest before he reaches my face. He then lets out a sigh.

"What is it?" I snap, "What are you going to do to me now? Cut off half of my face and rebuild it, or cover me head to toe in black dust with nothing else on like last year's district twelve?"

The man raises an eyebrow but stays silent; he circles me once again, like a vulture to his prey, and then dives in.

"Hi. My name is Ally and you don't need to worry. You look fine." Ally raises an eyebrow at my face and adds "More than fine, in fact."

I smile, and suddenly all I want to do is impress this strange, thin man. He's actually kind of cute. I stop myself and cut off my smile. He's from the Capitol and probably about twice my age, you can never tell with all these Capitols and their plastic surgery. Ally pauses.

"Do that again." He says. I smile again. "Good, I like it. Do that in the opening ceremony." Now it's my turn to raise an eyebrow but he just chuckles. All my doubt about him has gone, he feels just like another district eight. A wild and eccentric district eight, but a district eight none the less.

"Ok, as you know, your opening outfit has something to do with your district. Now, you're district eight which is all about textiles. I wasn't sure what to give you but now I've seen you I can see which style we're going for."

"Which style?" I ask innocently, a bit too innocently maybe.

"Come on, for your interview you are all framed around a style; mysterious, strong, clever, sexy, funny, rich, humble, tough, independent, survivor, innocent, other things like that. Now, I've discussed it with Hercules and Lumina while this wonder team were prepping you up and we've come to a decision."

"Right." I say, "Let me guess, rich, so I can relate to the Capitol audience?"

"Kind of." Says Ally, "Actually we've decided to go onto two styles, which isn't that normal, but has been pulled off before and done even better than normal, rich, you got that and the reason, and, well, we're going to go for sexy, to relate to the capitol on different terms."

"What?" I groan in disbelief, "No way! You've got me all wrong. I can't be sexy; I don't even look moderately alluring."

"Golden hair, sharp face, fit body," Ally winks at me and gives me another dazzling smile, "You've got it all. With a bit of help from me we can pull this off."

I shake my head like this is all a big mistake, but now the idea has dawned on me I realize how it could actually work. I'm not actually that bad looking...

"Oh, and one more thing." Adds Ally, "We're going to have to find you a boyfriend."

"What?" I yell, the enchantment snapped, "Now that's going to be easy! The only guys out there are going to be trying to kill me!"

"Yes it is actually quite easy; I've already got three possibilities singled out. To get you into the top we need you to get in with the careers, so you better start getting ready. If you can't get in there by skill alone a little romance wouldn't hurt on the sidelines to ease your way in. And anyway, by what I've heard about your knife work I think getting in by your skill alone would be easy enough."

"The careers?" I yelp like an abandoned puppy, "Whoa! I'm way out of my depth here. I'm not like Hercules; I'd rather be more like Lumina, self reliant and clever, not a box of bulk!"

Ally just stands there, letting me ponder this; the winner is almost always a career, so maybe it isn't actually such a bad idea. Maybe I can pull this off. But I'll need a lot of help from Ally. Right now I am so happy I decided to pull that knife stunt, so I don't look too posh and pathetic. I remember the looks district eight was giving me at the time, they could see through my disguise like a clothes worker through fabric.

Suddenly Ally yelps. Before I can say anything Ally jumps up and grabs me, tugs me out of the room and along the corridor, when I ask him where we're going he just grunts something about a broadcast. Before I know it I am sitting on a giant fluffy sofa and am propped in front of a giant television set. Ally presses a button on some wacky sort of remote and the screen bursts into life. The opening credits are pouring on and it takes me a while to realise that this is the hunger games' reaping being broadcast to the whole nation of Panem. I watch silently as the names are picked out of the reaping balls. I particularly remember some people. A tough looking boy who's around my age from district one who cheered when his name was picked out; a taller, prettier, sexier blonde girl who was evidently going to rip me onto pieces on the sexy approach from district two; a healthy and nice looking boy from district four who looks slightly younger than me; a tiny twelve year-old from district seven and a terrifying dark skinned boy from district nine who never so much as smiled.

When I see myself on stage with my lofty accent I know I'm different, but when I dive in with the dagger the silence is unbeatable and afterwards the commentator asks a rhetorical question to the audience. What kind of girl carries a knife around in the sleeve of her dress? I almost laugh. It's a question I have been asking myself a long time, but never had the guts to answer. A dangerous girl for a start, let alone scary, unpredictable and perfect for the hunger games. I smile; I hope other people think the same as I do. This girl is dangerous. This girl is a contender. I'm a contender!


	6. Chapter 6 The Opening Ceremony

It's one hour before the opening ceremony and I still have no idea what I'm going to wear. Both partners wear similar outfits but if Ally is giving me a rich, sexy approach and Vivian is going for the poor maid on a revenge theme then I have no idea how we can wear almost the same thing. I guess both of us will wear little fabric, me because I'm 'sexy' and Vivian because she's 'poor', but that's all I can think of. The past districts eights have worn things like togas made out of cloth, washerwomen outfits and once they were painted to look like a sowing needle. All I know is that Vivian and I have two totally different colour schemes going on. I'm blonde and pale with a slight tan and really need to wear something like red if we're going for 'sexy', not a dull brown that she needs to seem 'poor' or black like her hair, I just can't wear the plain colours that Vivian needs to wear.

I sigh. It's best if I stop worrying about our outfits, that's Ally's job. I wonder what's going to happen to us now though, I find that I am even more scared about the unknown than my actual fears so I start humming to a tune, it was a battle song that the Capitol heard the rebels sing before they went into fighting against them and it would make their hearts turn icily cold with fear as well as boosting the rebel's morale. Soon I find I'm singing along as well, even though if I was to get caught I would probably be killed. I don't even remember where I learnt it from.

_Draw up your battle plan, make it strong,_

_Plot out the action, bit by bit,_

_Join brains with your brothers, don't go wrong,_

_Sing the song of survivors, sing along,_

_Call up your warriors, Stamp your feet,_

_Fill your heart with your bravery, check your guns,_

_Join arms with your brothers, grit your teeth,_

_Sing the song of survivors, sing along,_

_March into battle, feel so proud,_

_Fight for righteousness, equality,_

_Join footsteps with your brothers, shout out loud,_

_Sing the song of survivors, sing along,_

_Storm the Capitol, push a defeat,_

_Kill only enemies, save innocent,_

_Join guns with your brothers, till they are beat,_

_Sing the song of survivors, sing along._

_Sing the song of survivors, don't go wrong._

When I finish singing I freeze, as if somebody has seen me, but no-one has. I wait there silently for at least another fifteen minutes and am about to go and get Ally; regardless whether I'm just wearing my underwear, when he enters with something in his hand. I shake my head at the bundle of colours, plain and not. Ally has done it. He lifts up a short dress which is only slightly longer than a top, just about covering my decency and hands over some bright red tights and black high heels, but I'm not looking at them. The dress is made up of patches of different materials and would look like a botch job due to all the stitching you can see if it isn't for the golden heart, shimmering in the light, which is exactly the same colour as my hair, sown on with no visible stitch marks right where my real heart would be. It totally outshines the jumble of colours which make up my dress, and seems to glow as if my heart really looks like that.

I softly handle the dress; the appearance of roughness can be deceiving and it really is quite delicate. I slowly put it on. It feels as soft as silk and fits me perfectly; gripping my stomach in and showing off the rest of me like a display. Finally I pull the bright red tights up and buckle up the chunky black high heels, you can see them but they don't dominate my look. I gasp in awe.

Before I can say anything Ally tugs my hair down from my ponytail and smiles as the waves tumble down and finally settle just above my shoulders, like they are floating. We stand there in silence, Ally looking at me, seemingly winded. I just stare at the mirror and can't believe it's me. The heart glimmers and reflects off my hair, making the room glow in an odd gold colour as if an angel just flew out down from the sky and possessed me.

"Well, you could have done worse." I finally stammer. Ally nods and accepts the compliment then sniffs.

"You better go outside, it starts in ten minutes," Ally says, pointing at the door and ushers me out with a final grin. "Good luck, oh, and don't forget to smile."

I give him my winning smile and click out of the room in my high heels. I only have one pair at home and I never wear them because they really hurt my feet, but these feel fine and seem to support me as well as making me look taller which is an added bonus because added height seems like added age to the Capitol. I reach the exit bay where Vivian and I will go out, but district eight is near the end so we have some more time. I look around but I can't see Vivian. Then suddenly she's here and _wow_, she certainly is here. She is dressed like me, her black hair curled mercilessly around her shoulders, but her heart, unlike mine, is a deep black, so deep that you can imagine it pouring down forever. I blink and look at her again without my eyes being sucked into the pit where her heart should be. Her tights are red too like mine, but even though they are the same shade they give off another message – stay away, which is the exact opposite to what I'm saying.

"It's cold; and dark." I mutter while gesturing to the freezing night sky but Vivian ignores me.

"Wow." Says Vivian, her eyes widening, "They're certainly playing the good and evil card all right. And guess who's evil!"

"You're forgetting something." I murmur "People would rather back the evil in the hunger games. The evil generally wins"

Vivian shrugs and we remain silent until the processions start. I gaze at my opponents in wonder. District one is first, they make luxury goods for the Capitol. A girl and a boy are led out on a chariot carved from crystal. Their faces are dull and serious and seem to not acknowledge the other at all. The girl is smiling slightly and trying to appear tough at the same time but the boy has a grimace permanently fixed on his face. That was the boy who cheered when his name was picked out. He's a real danger, I can tell. And he's going to be one of the careers, no doubt. They are wearing a silver jumpsuit with gold glitter spread all over them, it looks like a toddler's design compared to ours. I smile. This is going to be a breeze. Then I notice one other thing to our advantage; Vivian and I are the only group with two girls in it. People will be looking at us out of interest because we're unusual.

Before I know it it's our turn and we're stepping up onto a soft sort of carnival float, less like a chariot. We take positions side by side and I wonder why we don't have any sides like the others. Then I notice. _My legs, they want to show off my legs_! I grimace and force myself to stand evenly on both legs, jutting out my chest and put on my cheeky smile, turning away from Vivian. She, however, glares solemnly and turns away from me too so we're at a sort of right angle facing the swarm of Capitol citizens we're quickly approaching, our jet black horses melting into the night as if they weren't there at all. I glance backwards just to see Ally give us the thumbs up and then we're on.

The silence that greets us is extraordinary, there is little lighting so my golden heart glows, lighting up the stadium in a wonderful calm, touching other colours and transforming them. But the only thing my heart doesn't touch is Vivian's and it repels all my attempts, surrounding her in a veil of black. Then there is a cheer, from someone on Vivian's side and then the rest of the stadium joins in, clapping and shouting, stamping their feet, even the odd wolf whistle. And I smile, my mouth back in action, and I wave back and wink and flirt, absorbing all the applause. All while Vivian stands there, cold as an icicle, glaring, hating. And no-one will forget either of us. Not after tonight.


	7. Chapter 7  Training and Dral

The next morning I'm sitting on my bed, thinking of last night. The more I think about it the happier I become. I'm ready to start training after the huge success that way last night. Training. The word hits me. Train up to go and die, but I don't say anything, I don't do anything. All I want to do is get through this. So I sit here, thinking. But then someone comes in and interrupts me from my deep soul searching thoughts, I look up and am surprised to see the energetic face of Ally; before I can say anything he whips out something from behind his back.

"You'll look wonderful!" He mutters, tilting my face in his hands, "Now, I've got something for you. A little thank-you-for-being-so-amazing-last-night present."

"What?" I ask; a bit confused.

"What do you think? Today's outfit!"

"Whoa!" I back up when I see it. "When did you decide it was humane to put someone in shorts that... short?"

Ally can't stop himself trembling with laughter, so he holds up my outfit for me to see properly. There are some really short black denim shorts which contrast with my pale-ish skin and a baggy cream t-shirt with the hunger games logo on it.

"No-one wears those!" I complain, pointing at the T-shirt, "Just because I'm meant to doesn't mean I have to."

"Fine." Ally smirks, "I was just joking, here's your top."

He throws it to me so I catch it and hold it up, a really tight almost see-through skin coloured top, and I almost wish I hadn't complained.

"Now hurry up." Ally says, "Training starts in ten minutes. Oh, and choose some suitable accessories. I'm your designer, not your slave."

With that he leaves me with the skimpy outfit and a room full of accessories to sort through. I end up picking some skin coloured tights to wear under my shorts and some tough army looking black boots which almost go up to my knee. I quickly put on some bright red lipstick and exit the room to get to training so I'm not late. I'm just about to get there when Ally ambushes me. He seems to jump out of nowhere and drags me down an empty corridor in need of secrecy even though he's just spoken to me ten or fifteen minutes before.

"I had three potentials picked out." He whispers

"Three potential what?" I ask.

"Boyfriends!" Hisses Ally, "But I've decided that the boy from district nine isn't going to be swayed by the likes of you, or anyone else for that matter."

"What?" I exclaimed at the remembrance of his tight angry face, "Well, who are the other two?"

"Keep your voice down." Whispered Ally, "The boys from districts two and four, they'll definitely be the careers and interested."

I look at him like he's mad but he pushes me back in the corridor like nothing has happened and sighs.

"Start today. First impressions are the most important!" He whispers then whips off, leaving me standing there all on my own. I take a second to collect my thoughts and then dash off so I'm not late for training.

When I get there everyone else has started and I soon pick up what you're meant to do after having the ugly letter '8' pinned on my back like branding. That's going to be my biggest obstacle to overcome – my district. I'd be a career if I was form a career district already. But because I'm from eight things have just tripled in difficulty. There are different stalls with different activities on them for me to choose from. Each one shows you a different skill. I look around; throw an apologetic glance along with a flirty wink to one of the younger Gamemakers for being late and sight out one of my targets. It's the boy from four, but he's at the knife station. Lumina and Hercules have told me to throw my daggers badly if I have to go to the station so it looks like I'm not all that good, but mainly to stay away from it. Maybe it's better if I go to another station, but the boy from district two can't be seen anywhere so I wander up to the shelters section and am told I need to try and build something and then he'll evaluate me and tell me where I've went wrong. I suddenly find myself singing as I work so I keep my voice down and continue.

_Should I, shouldn't I,_

_Whatever should I do?_

_Decisions aren't my forte,_

_Their forte is you,_

_You decide for me,_

_I really want to know,_

_How come you don't even care?_

_Or at least don't let it show,_

_Just pick for me,_

_Save me from trying,_

_Just try for me,_

_Decide or I'll end up dying,_

_Close your book,_

_Think back to your years,_

_Help me out,_

_Save me from tears,_

_It's your choice,_

_I trust your judgement,_

_Just make sure,_

_I'm not back to front,_

_I have no idea,_

_So please choose for me,_

_Decisions, Decisions,_

_Not my forte._

When I stop I see the boy from district four looking at me. I shrug off any fears and join him at the knife throwing station. Actually he doesn't seem that bad, but evidently isn't accustomed to knives. Everyone already knows I carry a knife around with me and if this boy is destined to be the love of my life then it doesn't really matter if he knows I'm quite good at knife throwing.

I place my hand on his as he is about to throw the knife and sigh.

"No, no. You're doing it all wrong." I grind my teeth in frustration. Then I mould his hand into the perfect knife throwing position. "See, never get your hand too near the point or you'll cut yourself, and we have enough to worry about without inflicting self harm."

The boy gave me a weird look and seemed to think for a while.

"Try it!" I say, and he replicates the position perfectly, I nod in approval and he throws the knife again. "It's not quite a bulls-eye but it's an improvement." I say. The boy looks at me quizzically, seems to ponder something and then holds out his hand.

"Hi, my name's Dral, you're Kara. K-A-R-A." He smiles and then looks at his hand as if asking me to shake it.

I smile cheekily, raise his hand and kiss it, then wink at him. It's commonly known that people from district four are more attractive than the other districts and Dral is no different. His quite tanned body has been kept fit and his pearly white teeth seem to glint in the light of his messy brown hair.

"You've been keeping tabs on the opposition." I say, "Or is it just me you're interested in?"

I then slowly walk away, giving myself a bit of a swagger just to see how it works out.

"Wait!" Calls Dral, a bit too loud. Some people stare at him but he just smiles, "What happened to your accent?"

"This accent?" I ham up my posh Capitol accent to the maximum; then drop it, "You didn't really think I spoke, or acted like that, do you? Nah, just felt like a good idea at the time." And with that I start to move to another section, then turn around, but Dral's still looking at me so I blow him a kiss and hold it long enough for us to sustain eye contact, then pull it away and walk back to the shelter station. That's enough flirting for one day.


	8. Chapter 8  Fifteen Minutes

I spend the next five days in a routine, get up, put on another ridiculously revealing outfit, go downstairs, eat breakfast with my team while discussing small talk such as the weather or the food, go to training, flirt with Dral a bit, slowly winding him around my little finger. Then I pick up some new tricks of the trade, such as poisonous substances, how to light five types of fires, purify water, use a bow and arrow to moderate success and lift weights. Then I go to lunch and sit with the other careers, chatting and flirting, but mainly to Dral. We've already automatically selected what's going to happen. It happens every year. A group of careers raid the cornucopia, set up camp near it and hunt down the others, then, when the tension gets too great we crack and start fighting each other. Then it's a matter of you against everyone else. And yes, a career always wins; it's a fact of life. Well, almost always. Lumina won, and a couple of others. But aside from them it's always a career so that's why I'm going to try my luck with them, so hopefully I'll win. That and the fact that I don't think I'd be able to survive otherwise.

And just when I get used to something, it has to change. After training every contestant has just fifteen minutes to impress the Gamemakers who will then provide you with a training score. This will be the knowledge that many sponsors will use to pick someone, so it's important that you do well. Each training score is out of twelve and careers usually get between a seven and a ten so if I need to get at least a seven if I want to stay with the careers, which will be quite hard, well more like impossible, since I'm not all that skilled. I sigh. I guess I'll go in there and chuck my knife around; maybe I'll give them a demonstration on how to decapitate someone. I sigh again. I suppose I'll decide what to do when I'm in there.

I am pacing up and down in the waiting room, waiting for my go. Currently they are on the girl from district three so that means Dral is next. I really should say something but my throat has dried up and even if I could speak, I don't know what to say. So instead I creep up to him and put my hand on his shoulder and squeeze it reassuringly. This is the first time I've felt awkward towards Dral, before I knew it was just one big charade to get me into the careers, but now I'm not so sure. Now I can feel his fun-loving energy and good looks drawing me in and I don't like it one bit. I let go of his shoulder as he walks to show off his talent to the Gamemakers. I can feel his nerves. If he doesn't do well then he won't get into the careers, and neither will I probably. In a split second decision I dash up to him and peck him on the cheek. He turns bright red, but he has to go. I smile and return to my pacing. _Be patient_, I tell myself. That's what I'm best at. That's what I do, wait.

Slowly the people around are being drawn into the room, like bees to a honey pot. Before I know it it's Vivian's turn and I'm smiling encouragingly. If I don't win I want Vivian to. Not because I like her, which I don't, but because the Capitol will shower district eight with gifts, and I really think we all need a re-vamp in district eight, and anyway, at least my father will have only lost a wife and a daughter, not a maid as well. I'm not even sure if I can trust her, but I guess that's the thing with the hunger games. Trust, I mean. It is something you're better without, and anyway, trusting Vivian is something I'm never doing again. Not after she killed my mother. Not directly, maybe, but she still killed her; and I'm never going to let her forget that, and when I'm in the games she'll know I hate her more than anything for what she did. But for now I'll bide my time, keep quiet. That's what I'm best at, after all, waiting.

I get called in and in a flurry I find myself in front of the Gamemakers with no idea what to do when suddenly I give a cheeky little grin and go up to the weapons rack, I feel around but all the hilts on the knives are plastic. Oh well, I shrug, and stealthily remove a knife from the rack, hiding it up my sleeve, I'll just have to improvise. I slowly and purposefully stride up to the Gamemakers table and sidle along onto their bench. The looks of anticipation and horror are so classic I almost wish I have a camera with me until I remember where I am and what I'm doing. I spy out the youngest and most vulnerable of the Gamemakers and give him a smile that would melt an iceberg. He almost turns into putty into my hands and I silently praise Ally for the selection of skimpy skirts and miniscule shorts he has crafted for me along with tight, see-through tops. I almost shove a Gamemaker out of the way as I approach him and sit right next to him, my arm twisted around his back. Then suddenly the knife is in it as if by magic and my hand is on his throat in a textbook murder position. The silence is shocking and is only broken by a Gamemaker choking on an olive. I coolly remove my hand and I feel air coming out of all the Gamemakers throats, finally being able to breathe again.

I then walk calmly up to the rack of knives; the Gamemakers silence deadly, stack them up in a pile on one hand and shoot them out at the targets like a machine gun, drilling them out at the five bulls-eyes. I then look over at the Gamemakers; the young one is being cornered by some others, talking in hushed voices. I see an elderly Gamemaker look at my knife-throwing and tut, shaking his head, muttering something about how I only hit the bulls-eye twice in twenty, missing the second target completely. But then the man next to him shakes his arm and points eagerly towards my masterpiece. Only then does the elderly man seem to accept the full magnitude of my talent. The four letters I have thrown the knives to represent quite simply say 'I WIN', one letter on each of the targets, the second target merely being the space between words.

I smile sweetly and curtsy, winking daringly towards a Gamemaker, to whom I had held a knife to his throat just minutes earlier, give him a sickly sweet smile and don my ridiculous Capitol accent, never losing eye contact from him for the whole time.

"Please may I go now, sir?" I ask, my face slathered with cheekiness and my voice layered like honey. He meekly nods as if overpowered by me. I swagger slowly towards the door, raising my posture highly and then turn around and blow the Gamemaker a kiss, while noticing, out of the corner of my eye, another Gamemaker measuring my letters in 'I WIN', and it appears that they must be straight as he nods in astonishment at the head Gamemaker, who has never left eyes from me, is if delving deep into my soul. I quickly strut out of the room and shiver nervously; worrying if what I just did then was a good idea.

I barely get out of the room when my team is on me, Lumina and Hercules backing Debbie. Debbie purses her lips and strokes her rainbow braided hair, rearranging it even now.

"How did you do, sugar?" asks Debbie, giving an encouraging smile which I fail to return. Then it hits me – what I've done. Did I really think pressing a knife to a Gamemakers throat was going to win their affection, and quite simply writing 'I WIN' in knives is an act of rebellion by itself. In fact, I might have just got away with it if I hadn't blown it all away with that final kiss. I shudder with disgust at myself. They'll make me pay in the arena, unleashing genetically modified mutts at me and whoever I ally. I feel my body freezing up and I look straight at Debbie and then burst into torrents of tears. Only then do I notice that Dral is standing there, quietly observing my reaction. He seems taken aback, and has right to be. I've been so confident and flirty around him, sorrow is the emotion he'd probably relate to me least, but here I am, practically drowning in tears.

Dral quietly creeps away as if he was never there and Debbie is pressing a tissue in my hand and telling it me it couldn't have been all that bad. I just glare at her from beneath the tears and grunt. Eventually I sniff and breathe out so I have calmed myself down. Then I look straight into Debbie's eyes.

"I flirted with a Gamemaker and then held a knife to his throat." I choke out. Now I have said it I feel a lot better and exhale loudly and shout, "I FLIRTED with a GAMEMAKER and held a KNIFE to his THROAT!" The silence was deadly. Debbie just stared at me in horror. But then Lumina clasped her hand to my mouth.

"Keep it down!" She hissed, "Someone else might hear!"

I hyperventilate loudly and we all stand there, gripped in thought. Then suddenly Hercules snorts. I look at him with curiosity between sniffs.

"What?" He asks, "When you think about it, it's funny." Lumina hits him hard but she giggles too and soon they're both practically rolling around on the floor in laughter and even Debbie can't suppress a giggle. I think about it and I do see the funny side.

"But won't they hurt my family or something?" I ask.

"Nah. They'll just make life hell for you in the games." Says Lumina

"Understandably." Chips in Debbie, in need of defending the Capitol, "What exactly happened?"

So I told them how I entered, and immediately sat down on the Gamemaker's bench next to the youngest and most vulnerable, how I demonstrated a textbook death procedure, threw knives at the targets to spell out the words 'I WIN', asked the young man I had flirted with if I could leave, not the chief Gamemaker and blew a kiss to him.

My team stays quiet throughout my recital and then Ally speaks from behind me. I haven't noticed he is here, but immediately I feel worried by his presence, like I have betrayed him.

"Well, you certainly did put on a show there Kara." Ally smiles and I immediately relax. Sure, the Gamemakers will probably mush me to a pulp before I can do anything remotely interesting but at least it will be entertaining to the masses. I sigh.

"What's next?" I ask.

"We have your interview tomorrow evening." Ally answers, "That's why I'm here actually. You see, I have your dress, it's ready. But I need you to complete the beauty. Can you go to my styling room?"

I smile cheekily and nod at him.

"I'll go right there." I say; then dash off towards Ally's room.


	9. Chapter 9  Interview Outfit

When I get to Ally's room somehow Ally is there before me even though I left first. I don't know how, he just is. He is holding up a pair of scissors and whistling a tune to a song. I lean forward.

"I know that song." I say, giving Ally a quick smile, and I do. I just can't remember from where.

"Can you sing it for me?" asks Ally. "I've forgotten the words." The question takes me completely off guard but I smile.

"Sure. Why not?"

So I join in with Ally's whistling.

_Come, come,_

_Come and see,_

_See how the world amazes me,_

_See how the beauty is in the rose bud,_

_See how the forest is full of our blood,_

_Come, come,_

_Come and see,_

_See how the world fascinates me,_

_See how the nests rock under bird's weight,_

_See how the forest is full of our hate,_

_Come, come,_

_Come and see,_

_See how the world hypnotizes me,_

_See how the flowers lie in their bed,_

_See how the forest is full of our dead. _

_Come, come,_

_Come and see,_

_See how the world distresses me,_

_See how the baby birds cheep for more, _

_See how the forest is full of our war,_

_Come, come,_

_Come and see,_

_See how the world murdered me,_

_See how the animals squabble annoyed,_

_See how the forest has been destroyed._

"That's right, you're quite a singer." Ally says, then smiles at me. But I don't smile back. I have just remembered where I have heard that song before and it frightens me, it terrifies me. I look at Ally in a totally different way, almost scared of him.

My father was the head peacemaker, he retired after my mother died when the shock really started to get to him. But when he was in charge it was generally agreed he was a fair and gentle ruler. But he did one thing I have never forgiven him for. It occurred when I was about seven and I still think back to it sometimes. There was a family of five people, all huddled together camping outside on the streets of district eight. There was a mother, husband, a son who was around eighteen and two girls, one of them was sixteen and the other was only a year older than me at the time. My father was worried about them; they hadn't been there before so he led them into our house to sleep in some of the spare servant's quarters. But in the middle of the night there was a huge commotion. One of the maids had heard them talking about raising a revolution in district eight against the Capitol.

When my father heard about this he knew as his job as head peacemaker he would have to sentence the whole family to death, but he didn't want the youngest girl to die so he offered to keep her on as a servant in the household. The parents agreed and so the little girl stayed. But my father sentenced the rest of the family to death by hanging, on what we call noose row. The family stood there, mother, father, son and daughter. All of them facing the noose. And guess what they did, they sang a song. A rebellion song. No-one tried to stop them, they were going to die. And ever since that day I have remembered every word to that song that they sung. It was the song I had heard Ally whistling along to and foolishly joined in.

The Capitol is sure to tape the room, and the song. But Ally grins with a mischievous smile.

"They don't tape in stylists rooms. They don't think we're the rebellious sort," Ally explained as if he could read my mind and then stared at me quizzically. "But how do you know that song?"

I guiltily bite my lip and think back to the poor family and their heartbroken daughter.

"Vivian." I say simply, "Her family sang it as they were going to the gallows as my father had decreed."

Ally seems to step back in shock, but then regains himself and just smiles.

"A bit more material to work with there, eh?" He says. I just nod solemnly. I don't feel like speaking, let alone joking any more. Ally seems to pick up on this and holds up something.

"Your interview outfit." Ally says simply, "It needs a bit more work but it's almost finished."

My eyes feast on this marvel of an outfit and slide it on silently. My top is a delicate entwinement of stitches in different colours, seemingly shimmering like a rainbow in the light. Every stitch is visible yet you can see through the top to see my skin underneath, but it has been cast with a rainbow shadow, making my skin dance with an array of colours. The tights over my legs make it look tanned and sexy, while it is very hard to distinguish whether I'm wearing tights or just have a hot tan. Of course it's obviously the latter, but the audience don't know that. The only tell-tale mark is at the joining at my feet which has been cleverly covered up by some chunky high-heeled sandals, gold and glittery. I smile with content and my eyes glimmer slightly. Ally grins at my amazement.

"So, what do you think?" He asks

"It's amazing!" I stammer, "Fantastic, I can't wait to see the shorts to go with it!"

"I did tell you I designed a dress for you, didn't I Kara?" asked Ally, looking a bit embarrassed.

"Yes." I say, "Have you got two outfits for me to choose from?"

"No." Ally says, matter-of-factly, "That _is_ your dress."

"My dress?" I practically shriek, "I thought it was a top it's so short. In fact, why don't you forget the whole 'clothes' thing anyway? You're just a stylist, you're just meant to _design _my clothes. Why don't you send me in wearing some glittery underwear, or even better, send me in just wearing glitter!"

Ally looks at me guiltily, "Look, Kara," He says.

"OK, the 'sexy' thing was cool but now this is ridiculous! Just make me some shorts!" I yelp.

"I don't have enough time, Kara." Ally says, "And anyway, that's as short as it's going."

"Promise?" I demand

"Promise." He says, then pauses, "Though I might just trim it down a bit."

At the look of absolute horror on my face Ally bursts out laughing. "Just kidding!" He giggles and I join in reluctantly when I see the funny side to it. We end up like that for quite a while, I don't know how long, in a fit of giggles. Then suddenly he looks at his watch and almost jumps into the air.

"The score broadcast is in ten minutes!" He gasps, "Get back into your normal clothes, quick!"

I scamper off and get changed in a matter in minutes, quickly dashing to the broadcast room where we will learn our training scores and I will learn my fate.


	10. Chapter 10  Training Score

**In case you haven't noticed, I've been correcting these for typos and errors in the plot and such. So if you spot anything please give me a shout.**

I get there with seconds to spare, Lumina and Debbie giving me weird looks while Ally just winks at me. I dive onto the sofa between Vivian and Ally and stare at the screen. The district one male is flashing at me now. A nine! I shiver. He's the one to look out for then, the sexy girl from two gets an eight and Dral gets a seven, which means he's in the careers and so am I, as long as my score isn't too terrible. Not too terrible, I wish. Score number one, here I come. Hopefully people will be thinking I held myself back. The tiny girl from district seven gets a six, which surprises me and I almost choke on the salty nuts I am munching on. I wonder what she's so good at. Then Vivian's score comes up. An eight! Then I actually do choke and am bending down, unable to breathe as my score comes up.

As per usual, I miss all my important things and look up just to see district nine's boy, the really scary looking one, getting a nine just like the district one boy. Those two shouldn't be messed with. But before anything like that occurs in my mind I look up at my stunned team as I spit out the peanuts to stop myself from choking again. They are just staring transfixed at me.

"Yeah. I'm choking," I cough, "Don't worry about me, I didn't see my score, only Vivian's eight which you are all so flabbergasted about that you can't even speak any more. So, how was my one or two, or perhaps did I break a record? Did they give me a zero?" Hercules slowly shakes his head and I pause, maybe they gave me a two for that accuracy with the knife thing. Ally is the first to speak.

"Kara," He says softly, "You got a ten." My face freezes for a moment then I snort.

"Yeah, yeah. Very likely. Hilarious, my sides are splitting, wind up the poor girl who got a two in her training score." I say, annoyed. But Ally just shakes his head.

In the end it takes the replay the next morning to convince me that they're telling the truth and then I just stare, blankly. I don't understand, I threatened to kill a Gamemaker, then blew a kiss to him, was disrespectful to the head Gamemaker and made a message in the wall saying 'I WIN'. How could they have given me the highest training score?

"I guess they like your spunk." Says Hercules, breaking the silence; _Spunk_, I now hate that word and make a mental note never ever to say it.

"But why would they do that – give me a ten, I mean?" I ask.

"They want an interesting game." Chipped in Ally, "You're certainly interesting. Now you'll have both sponsors and tributes out there, braying for your blood. Though I think the sponsors are slightly more welcome."

I smile then sigh. "I better go then. I've got an interview to prepare for."

I dash off to Ally's styling room and pick up the ridiculously short dress. As I pull it on I don my smile as well as the clothing and look in the mirror. Perfect, except I'm missing something...

Ally enters the room and smiles knowingly. "Your hair," He explains, "It's too weak. We need to fluff it up, make it look crazy!" I stand in front of the mirror as he adds mousse and various other gels and such like into my hair until it shines a fiery gold, almost like the heart did. It has puffed out, the fluffiness engulfing my shoulders, but not my face. That steers clear of the elegant tangle my hair has become. I smile and my pure white teeth steer the look into pure style.

"Why didn't you use one of those Capitol machines that does it all for you?" I eventually ask, trying to think of something to say in marvel of the masterpiece perched on top of my head that barely feels like mine.

"They don't though." Says Ally, "It lacks that special something, that oomph that you can only mould with your two hands." I nod encouragingly and listen out for more. Ally laughs.

"You really can't pull off the eager look, well, I've got to go and see the designer for district four, he wants to see me, something about his girl tribute's outfit. Doesn't fit properly, probably. Might see if I can put a spanner in the works for her in the form of some 'friendly' advice, just for you. See you in the interview then. Remember to see Claudia and Bart for makeup. We were going to try and coach you but I think Vivian needs it a bit more than you; anyway, you go girl!"

So I stand here looking at the reflection of myself, pondering over what to do and I start singing. It starts quietly, me singing a happy tune and then I've burst into full blown song.

_See the little birds cheep,_

_Oh my, it's so sweet,_

_How the trees sway in the wind,_

_But I don't really care,_

_If other people stare,_

_At my love for life._

'_Cause I'm on top of the world, baby,_

_In love with the world, I know it's crazy,_

_But I'm on top of your world, baby,_

_And I'm not coming down._

_Hear the water trickling,_

_The berries ripe for picking,_

_Know how we're all happy,_

_But I don't give a bit,_

_If people think I'm sick,_

_Due to my love of life,_

'_Cause I'm on top of the world, baby,_

_In love with the world, I know it's crazy,_

_But I'm on top of your world, baby,_

_And I'm not coming down._

_Smell the forest pine trees,_

_Feel the rippling breeze,_

_Peace and harmony together,_

_I don't mind if people think,_

_That I might need a shrink,_

_Since I love life,_

'_Cause I'm on top of the world, baby,_

_In love with the world, I know it's crazy,_

_But I'm on top of your world, baby,_

_And I'm never ever coming down, yeah!_

Suddenly my stomach churns and I have an odd feeling that someone is watching me so I suddenly spin around to find myself face to face with Dral. He looks shocked that I've caught him in the act of listening to me.

"What are you doing here?" I snap, glaring at him hostilely.

"Suzie's designer sent me to get Ally. Suzie, the female tribute from my district." Dral murmurs, "But then I heard you sing and..."

"OK, I get the picture." I chip in, and then soften down a bit, "How are you?"

"Fine, fine. How can you sing like that?" He asks.

"Badly?" I murmur.

"No, it's great, you're great."

I smile, "Well, I guess I'm just gifted."

I look at him. He's all smartened up and is wearing a dark green dinner jacket with a black tie and matching trousers. I carefully back away.

"You're wearing your interview outfit." I murmur, "We're not meant to see each other in these before the interview."

Dral looks at me and smiles awkwardly, "You're wearing yours, too, aren't you?"

"Nah," I say, "Just an ancient thing I slipped on."

Dral looks at me, stunned. I giggle playfully at his shocked reaction.

"I was just joking Dral. Do you really think I dress like this normally?" I ask, glancing down at my dress, or rather my 'shirt'.

"No, no." Says Dral, his head turning away from me, "Well, I better find Ally then."

"Oh." I say, "He said he was going to see a district four designer. I guess you two just missed each other in the lifts or something."

"Well," Dral says, looking around awkwardly, "I better go then."

"Bye," I say almost reluctantly.

"Bye," Dral mutters.

Dral shuts the door and I glance around the room and see another door I never noticed before. I creep up to it and push it open with a slight creak. I enter and see Claudia and Bart, my styling team. They're sitting down with a cup of tea in their hands relaxing on a sofa when I enter. They both jump up, startled. When they see it's just me Claudia smiles and Bart grunts.

"Ally told me I should see you for makeup," I explain.

"Of course he did, cherub," Coos Claudia as she drags me in front of a seat, "Now, Bart, what did he tell us to do to this dove?"

Bart hums, thinking hard and then smiles. "High complexion on upper face contrasting the lower concentration gradient used on the cheeks and neck, slowly drifting down the scale. Then rainbow gleam placed on the upper forehead after a full facial waxing and natural Mediterranean herb cream application – Mauritius, I think it was, after opening the pores of course and closing them mid-cream application, oh, and not to touch her hair."

I smile, not having understood a word of what he has just said and Claudia gives me a reassuring grin.

"It's not all that complicated, it should only take a couple of minutes."

An hour later of primping, grooming and slathering some honey-like substance on my face I am ready. My makeup is done so I took truly golden, and there are speckles of rainbow dancing around on my face. I grin at myself in the mirror, and even the cheesiest of grins doesn't make a difference. I look rich, powerful and most importantly, smoking hot.


	11. Chapter 11  Interview

**PLEASE review or I might stop turning these out. If no-one's interested then I can't really see the point. Yes, I do need a song or two. Review with it or PM me, I don't mind. It's either that or you'll have to put up with my really bad rubbish. Yes, I can't write songs, but I find I need them to complete Kara's character. I'm open to any **_**constructive**_** criticism so don't just write 'its rubbish', write 'It's rubbish because...' Hopefully no-one will be writing the word 'rubbish' anywhere near this, but you know, just in case...**

I'm sitting right next to Vivian and can't get my eyes off her – she looks absolutely stunning. Her vivid black hair is so wavy she looks beautiful but in a dangerous type of way. She is wearing a long, flowing black dress with a seam in the leg so she looks mysterious and dangerous all at the same time. The dress has something that looks like diamonds sewn onto the collar and the hem, but they can't be diamonds the way Vivian holds the dress up with ease, along with her sleek black shoes and icily cold skin. I look down at myself, tanned and dressed up, I look childish and frivolous in comparison, but Vivian doesn't seem to think so.

"You look dazzling!" She says to me, "I wish my designer had made me look more like you."

I smile but don't mention that she looks a lot better than me; if I do maybe she'll do better in her interviews and gain an extra sponsor or two. Instead I look away and scan the rest of the people. The boy from district one, Anvike, as I've heard him being called, is wearing smart shoes, but that's all that's smart about him. He's absolutely tough, and is wearing baggy black trousers and a crisp white shirt which had been creased specially for the occasion, you could tell because all the creases were either in straight lines or jagged in a perfect way, no natural creases look like that. I should know, I've worn my fair share. Then I see the girls from district two and four glaring at me enviously. When I see their outfits I understand why.

The girl from district two, Precious, I think her name is, is wearing dark green really short shorts and a tight skin coloured top, almost identical to my training outfit except for the colour of the shorts. Evidently Ally's outfit had struck a bell with her designer, who desperately tried to copy it, but the colours are all wrong with her and don't suit her natural tan, they are for paler skin like mine. Even the skin coloured top is the wrong colour. Then when I look at the girl from district four's outfit, Suzie, I desperately try not to laugh. Ally has certainly done something there. It looks like she was meant to be going for the likeable look, smart shirt and skirt with a well-worn feel about them.

But somehow Ally had wheedled his way into the other designer's work to give me a bit more attention. He had convinced Suzie's designer to hitch her skirt up so it was almost as short as mine and adjust her top so the neck opened at the bust and the top started just above her belly. Now, that would have been alright for someone normally, but Suzie with her strawberry blonde hair and slightly flabby belly, it didn't work. She looked like she was trying desperately to copy me and failing. Also adjusting uniform at work might look hot, but out of work it just looks stupid. So that is what Suzie looks, stupid, and Ally has fixed it so that it looks she has been copying me with my short dress and low neck line. I chuckle silently to myself as I smile at Suzie encouragingly. The problem is, Suzie is quite a nice girl and I silently wish Ally had played the mean trick on someone else, like the district two girl. But her designer ruined it for her without Ally even nudging them in the right direction.

Then the music starts and so do the cameras and all eyes focus on our host, Caesar Flickerman. He's been hosting the games for as long as I can remember and is one of the few people associated to the games I always liked. Every year he dyes his hair a different colour to symbolise each games. This year it's a pitch black, and in comparison to his pale, plastic skin he looks almost ghostly. I smile, despite Caesar's current appearance; he's always helping tributes and can even make a dud like Suzie sound sexy. I'll need all the help I can get today to pull this off. I have decided to use the Capitol accent so I'm recognisable but to tone it down even more so it sounds just like I'm slightly posh.

First up is the district one girl, 'ladies first', as Caesar says. Then it's the district one's boy, Anvike. He glares the camera down but soon warms up, talking about his training score, a nine. When Caesar asks him what it's like to be beaten by a girl he simply grits his teeth and stares me down in the audience, giving me his most evil and killer glare.

"We'll see where our talents really lie in the arena." He says and then his time is up. Next up is the district two's girl. She comes on, flicking her blonde hair and winking at the camera. She flirts a bit with Caesar and the Capitol audience, and in reaction to her eight she just shrugs.

"It was ok, I guess." She says. Trust her to weave into the minds of the Capitol she should have got a nine or even a ten, equalling me.

It continues like this, tributes moving on and off. Suzie finishes and then Dral is on. He is acting formally and politely, trying to be kind and courageous as well as chivalrous, mentioning me once, one too many times in my opinion.

The twelve-year-old from district seven is on now; I seem to have drifted off. After her it's her district partner, Vivian and then me. I'm standing in for the 'male' tribute in my entering times, since I was drawn second, like the male tributes. The girl is smiling sweetly and explaining about how her six in training was just the beginning and in the arena she will definitely get past half way, like her training score suggests. Then after a particularly dull and uninteresting interview with her district partner which I spend sweating my way out under the hot studio lights concocting up wild fantasies of what could go wrong, Vivian enters, not smiling or waving or anything, just gliding up to Caesar with the grace of a ballerina. Caesar smiles and motions for her to sit down and she does so, not relaxing on the chair as several other contestants did, such as Dral, but sits up formally and cocks her head to one side to Caesar as if conveying a hidden message. Just then Caesar starts asking her questions, and I know once her three minutes are up it will be my turn. Before I know it Vivian is stepping down and nudging me to get up.

I rise carefully and stutter to the stage in a weird kind of swagger, trying desperately not to trip and fall over, reach Caesar's chair and dust it off, even though it is spotless. I then sit down and smile at Caesar, making sure I don't drop the smile, even though smiling when you talk is really painful.

"So, Kara, what do you like about the Capitol?"

What do I like about the Capitol? _Nothing_, I think. But I can't say that. Earlier today I made up a character, Clara, (that's what Debbie called me at first), now, what would vain, beautiful, rich, sexy and wonderfully popular Clara say?

"Well, all the handsome Capitol boys, of course," I simper. This is too easy. Someone in the audience makes a wolf whistle and I wink at him. Soon all the cameras are showing his face. I thank the heavens he is quite a good-looker and turn back to Caesar, smiling.

"So, Kara," Caesar says, _Clara_, I correct in my mind, "Let's talk training scores. A ten! You have the highest score of all of us. Are you going to tell us your secret?"

"No can do, I'm afraid, Caes," I deliberately abbreviate Caesar's name to make me sound friendly. "I think that info is meant to be hush-hush!"

Caesar nods "Of course, so, Kara, what would you say is going on with the other contestants? Any opposition?"

"Well," Clara answers for me, "That girl from district two, I can't be bothered with learning her name, is going to be great, I can picture her now; a great thief. I mean, she's already practically raided my wardrobe for her outfit today. I was wearing that outfit, two, three days ago." I shrug off at the end.

The audience murmurs and there is a camera shot onto the girl from district two glaring me down from in the audience.

"But apart from that, no trouble. Accept maybe Vivian." Clara finishes for me.

"Ah, yes, Vivian." Caesar looks at me. "What can you say about her?"

This time I push Clara out of the way, who going to say _Ever since my father ordered the rest of her family to death because they were rebels she's had it in for me. I mean, she killed my mother for goodness sake! _But instead I take control and butt Clara out of the way.

"Vivian? We've grown up together but I can't really say very much. Our conversations have gone about as far as 'fetch me my hairbrush girl' or 'ready a bath for me maid' and just about the only thing she's ever said to me is 'yes, ma'am', 'no, ma'am' or 'straight away, ma'am'." The audience chuckles with actual laughter and I give off one of my trademark beams.

"That's about it then, Kara." Caesar says.

I go up to him and plant a kiss on each cheek, his skin is smooth and plastic-like. I smile and go back to my seat. That was a success. I managed to undermine my only real opponent on the 'sexy' approach and get through without being terribly horrible and saved from totally smashing Vivian's life off the balance. I want the pleasure of doing that myself with my bare hands. I smile yet again, that went really well. I sit down and beam appropriately, whenever a camera steers my way. The boy from district nine answers only with a 'yes', or 'no' and is definitely going for the tough approach. Eventually it finishes and we all smile at the camera. Once I'm out of the room I let out a sigh of relief, that was great and now I've finished I can genuinely smile and I think I feel my eyes twinkling, something which only happens when I'm really happy. This hasn't happened to me since my mother died and this might be the last time too because tomorrow – the arena.


	12. Chapter 12  Launch

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I wake up. This is the day, the day I enter the arena. My face pales as I sit up in the plush Capitol bed and examine my hands. At the end of the day they might be murders hands, at the end of today I very well might be a killer. If so how will I feel about it? Will I care or be as heartless as I was when Vivian was reaped. Was that really only just over a week ago? It feels like a lifetime. I bite my lip again and it re-opens my wound. I've got to stop doing that; today is the last day I can rely on advanced Capitol medicine to heal every scratch I have. You never know, it might get infected in the arena and be the end of me. I shake my head and get up. There, shaking my head is a lot less violent and a lot less painful then biting my lip. I shake my head again and go to see Ally after smearing on some Capitol wound medicine, the wound fizzes and begins to clot. In a few hours it will be like it was never there. In a few hours I'll be in the arena. In a few hours I might be dead.

No point in changing out of my pyjamas, I'm just about to get changed into my clothes for the arena. It's all a simple dress code so no hope of anything sneakily woven into my outfit from Ally. Even the underwear is pre-made. I step out into the corridor and walk up to breakfast.

I get here and gorge myself on food until I can't possibly eat more and then eat even more until the mere possibility of moving my hand towards the food is a form of pure torture in itself.

After that I glug down loads of water, loads meaning more than I've probably ever drunk in my whole entire life, drinking it without thinking about it until I'm surprised there's still any water left in Panem. I am practically inhaling gallons of it. Finally, when I can't possibly eat or drink a morsel more, I stagger off to the launch room where should be waiting for me. I feel like a giant inflated balloon. _Is this what it's like to be pregnant, _I ask myself and slump down in a pile on the giant comfy sofa in the launch room. Each arena is different so this means I'll be the first and the last tribute to use this launch room. People from the Capitol will flock here in their thousands to have a nice holiday, tour the death areas and scenes of vital events and maybe take part in a performance or two, re-creating our deaths. The barbarism of it hits me hard. How could people linger around places where people were brutally murdered and enjoy it, even re-create it? I shudder.

Then I notice Ally is here, watching me silently. I smile at him.

"I haven't gone to see Debbie, Lumina, or Hercules." I gulp, "Saying goodbye would be too hard for them, seeing as I'm going to die."

"No you're not." Ally says, handing me my ring that my mother gave me. I slide it on and feel it is slightly tight, like it always has been. At least the Capitol haven't tampered with that part of my life either.

"There's no point pretending that anyone likes me," I say on the verge of tears, "I'm just a snivelling posh brat who's been playing dress up. I'm worthless!"

But Ally looks at me with distaste.

"Don't ever think that, Kara. You're funny, kind, independent, kind of cute..." I look at him, amazed, Ally thinks I'm cute? My thoughts are buzzing like a beehive.

"You're a survivor, Kara." Ally says, resting a hand on my shoulder and squeezing it reassuringly, though I don't know if he means to reassure himself or me. "You're a survivor and you're going to win for me, Kara. You're going to win for your friends and family."

We sit there for a while, Ally and me staring at the landing pad in this bunker which will shoot up and then I will be out in the arena, with sixty seconds before the gong sounds and I will be out to kill.

Ally finally stands up and hands me a pile of clothes. I climb into them and look down. I have some black trousers and a khaki top; it's quite tight and long. I look at Ally and he winks.

"I had a word with the designer of these and convinced her that it would be better if they were a little tighter and longer for everyone, no doubt some will find it annoying, others very useful."

Also I have a green open hoodie with a zip so it can be done up. Ally looks at the materials.

"It took me a lot of time to realize," Explains Ally, "But the material used in all of these actually traps heat apart from the long, thin top. So either you're going somewhere really cold or really hot, in which case take it all off apart from the top and bathe in water regularly, as well as make sure you're well sheltered always to keep cool. Oh, and Kara..."

I look at him and he launches himself at me in a hugging frenzy, I cough and back up as Ally wipes a tear from his eye.

"Keep safe, Kara, and don't die."

With that I step onto the launch pad, grip my ring and start singing a long, mournful song about a soldier going to war.

_As I walk out of our door,_

_It becomes just yours again,_

_I feel my heart wanting more,_

_You're about to lose a loving friend,_

_We've been together all my life,_

_I am no-one without you,_

_Yet all I do is pack my knife,_

_What else can I do?_

_You're my oasis,_

_My world, my heart,_

_Yet as I pack my cases,_

_I know I don't need to part,_

_But the tanks rolled by,_

_And our children left,_

_The bombs fell from the sky,_

_And we both wept,_

_So as you wave I start to cry,_

_Wishing I had one second more,_

_But I leave now, soon to die,_

_To go out and join the war,_

I gulp for a breath and see Ally's eyes welling up as the platform rises up and I enter the arena; the arena of death.


	13. Chapter 13  Bloodbath

These sixty seconds are the most tense in my life. I look around me and gaze at my surroundings; all of us are arranged in an arch around the golden Cornucopia. Behind me is a forest, deep and dense, it looks threatening as if to say 'stay away', bunches of poisonous berries lumped into clumps of different hues, inviting yet at the back of my mind I have a deadly feeling about it. The forest seems to slowly slope up until it levels out into a plateau where I can hear the distant raging torrent of a river. In front of me, between all of the tributes and the cornucopia is a small stream, trickling. We'll probably set up camp here, guarding the Cornucopia, maybe hiding a few vital supplies just in case. Behind the Cornucopia is a giant mountain, looming ominously above us. _Not very many tributes will go there_, I tell myself, storing the information away, deep down in my mind. Coolly calculating where everyone will go to, not worrying about myself. To my left the forest continues until it cuts off by the mountainside and to my right there is a dip but I see the trees entering there too, though slowly changing into species you would probably find near a swamp.

I set my eyes out to the Cornucopia and to the people around me. Directly next to me are Dral and the male tribute from twelve, already setting eyes on a waterproof poncho right in front of him. The nearer you get to the Cornucopia, the better the items. Most people who aren't careers will snatch and run, but a few will stick around for the greater prizes, temptation getting the better of them. Those are the ones who will probably end up being slaughtered in the bloodbath. I have no idea how much of the minute has gone so I scan the Cornucopia for a weapon, there, a few metres in front of me is a chunky knife. Although I can see better further into the Cornucopia, I can have those later. At the moment I need to get armed, and fast. I am just flexing my muscles getting ready to run when the gong goes off to show that the games have started.

I dash forward and grab the knife turning around to stab someone about to initialise the terrible deed, when I notice it is Dral. I quickly swerve out of my charge towards him and change direction and accidently knife the boy from district twelve instead. My face turns paler then his as the blood seeps out of his wound. I quickly whip the knife out so the Capitol doesn't see that I'm scared and I charge off into the Cornucopia. I feel the air getting hot around my head and duck without a second to spare, the spear that flew past my head striking a girl from district five in her calf, injuring her. Just as I am nearing her Precious stabs her with a sword. I turn around and look for a new opponent. Most of the people who aren't careers have either run away or are dead by now. Then I spot Dral struggling in hand and fist with the boy from district seven. Blocking thoughts of murder from my mind I throw my knife heartlessly at the boy and it enters his lungs so he couldn't even scream. Dral looks around and sees me. I smile at him and dash to the Cornucopia. I find a belt with five knives hanging off it, hitch it on and charge back out into the bloodbath. The only living non-career is the girl from district three who is being bloodily stabbed repetitively by Anvike, a grin never ceasing to fall from his face.

I scan the Cornucopia, the tributes from three are dead, as well as the girls from five and eleven, the boys from seven, ten and twelve. I count on my fingers. Seven dead already, this has been an eventful bloodbath. I look up at all the careers, we're all unscathed. I pant heavily then am the first to speak, showing I am ready. I am blocking out the events of the bloodbath from my mind.

"Seven dead already. Thank goodness they don't do cannon shots in the bloodbath or I'd be deaf by now."

Anvike grins crazily and drops the girl from district three, her limp bloody body riddled with holes. The first to speak is generally the leader and I can tell he won't like it if it turns out that I'm the leader and I don't want to cross him.

"We should search them; see if they've got anything." He says, trying to take control, as if challenging me to even breathe out of place.

I am about to mention that they can't have picked up anything great and essential in the bloodbath but I bite my lip. I almost hit myself as I re-open the clot that had been forming there, but then that would have meant more self-harm, which isn't a good thing. Hopefully there's still some Capitol medicine in my bloodstream. I nod and we set to work. I grimly bend down over the boy from district twelve. I rack my brains for his name. I think it was Leo or something like that. Maybe I'll never know. I look at his face and then at my hands. Murderer's hands, I had told myself this morning but not believed it for one second. Yet here I am looking at murderer's hands. I wipe the sweat from them on my baggy black shorts and look in his pale face.

As the daughter of the head peacemaker I've seen dead people before, but never someone I've killed myself. I now understand why my father sobbed mercilessly the night Vivian's family was hung. I thought it was because he has been made a mockery of with the song, but now I understand. The guilt of killing someone breaks you down, even the very soul of you crumbling. That's what I feel now, but I have to be strong, I have to look cool. I rummage around in the boy's pockets of his jacket but find nothing, of course. _Fourteen_, my conscience murmurs, _he looks fourteen, just a year younger than you are now. Your mother was alive at that age, you were happy_.

I close my eyes and roll the body over, removing the jacket just in case it gets really cold. I realize I'm with the careers so no-one should be worrying about being cold with all the supplies but I still hold the jacket. When I see Suzie looking at me I shrug and roll the jacket up.

"Might come in useful." I say defensively, even though I know it won't. The reason I keep the jacket is that I want something of his, like a souvenir perhaps, but not something to enjoy or relish; something that will keep me aware of what I am and what I have become, a murderer. Because I, Kara Jaymond have killed someone, and am never going to forget it.


	14. Chapter 14  Mockingjay

We end up setting up camp by the river. In the Cornucopia there were four two man tents, perfect for protection against the elements. There are seven of us; the district one tributes, Anvike and Daphne, the ones from two and four, Cecil, Precious, Dral and Suzie. Then there's me. The hot girl from district eight who got a ten in her training score, the posh murderer from the sowing district who killed two people in the bloodbath. I stare around, out of the seven of us one will claim the tent all to themselves, and I know who will do that, Anvike.

I shake my head and look at all of us. Daphne has lit a fire and is stoking carefully to keep it alight while Precious and Anvike are having a hushed conversation in the corner, probably deciding what to do. Either about the others or me, probably both. Cecil is purifying some water to drink with Suzie. We needn't worry about food. The Cornucopia was in abundance will all manner of food, from crackers to dried fruit. It's almost like we haven't left the Capitol. Almost. Dral and I are sitting next to the fire. I notice that my disguise has almost cracked and my hot look is now almost see-through enough that I won't be getting any more sponsors. I need to do something, quick, no matter how small. This sitting around won't get me the sponsors, so I lean onto Dral and put my head on his shoulder. His body tenses but it soon relaxes as he notices it's me. He feels warm and I drape my arm over him, so I can feel protected. I'm still little Kara Jaymond at heart, not an enthusiastic, sexy show-off, but a calm and calculating girl who gets scared easily.

"You saved my life back there." Dral says uncomfortably.

"Nah," I say, "You'd have beaten that pip-squeak fair and square."

"I very much doubt it, and I wouldn't have exactly called him a pip-squeak."

"Nevertheless, you would have got him eventually. I just wanted to steal your kill." I tease.

"Oh. So you didn't care about me, you just to get me down?" Asks Dral jokingly.

"Me? Like you?" I laugh, "Like that's going to happen. I mean, the only person in the world who would like you is with someone either with the mental capacity of a goldfish or someone who's so desperate that they'd hatch onto anyone. I think Precious fits both those boxes."

Dral burst out laughing and I manage to keep it in until Precious glances our way giving us both evils. I mean, everyone knows we're here. It doesn't matter; we can make all the noise we want.

"I mean you're so repulsive I'm surprised your designer didn't just rebuild you out of plastic," I giggle, "In fact, they should have just put a plastic dummy in the arena instead of you; it would have been a lot more useful."

I can feel my brain screaming the exact opposite of what I am saying. First of all, Dral is very, very hot, and second of all he has actually been very useful. We both snort at each other and then settle down.

Dral loops an arm around my back and we sit like that, by the crackling fire, arm in arm. I flinch. I'm falling for Dral, hook, line and sinker, and that is something you can't do in the hunger games because only one person will live. I slowly sit up, admiring the surroundings. The sun is starting to set and soon it will be dark.

Anvike and Precious approach us, beckoning Cecil and Suzie over. We all sit around the fire, it crackling, cinders swooping into the air as the sun slowly creeps down. We're probably being filmed right now. The first day is very eventful, but as long as something big isn't happening then we'll feature. We are the careers, after all. Anvike hands us all out weird sunglasses, I look at them suspiciously, turning them around in my hands. I'm sure I've seen something similar somewhere before.

"What are these?" I ask suspiciously.

"Night vision goggles." Suzie explains, "You can use them to see in the dark."

I nod and slip them on, and it's true! You really can see in the dark with them, everything is a lot clearer but is laced in an eerie green light.

"What I say is we split into two groups, one to go hunting, one to guard camp." Anvike says.

"What if we split into three groups?" I say suddenly, then bite my lip again, now knowing that the presenters of the show will be discussing my actions, if they are a genuine idea or a struggle for command. Suddenly I feel all eyes gnawing into me, not just the six other people here, but the whole of Panem as well.

"One to guard the base, one to hunt out people nearby and one to hunt out people further afield. No-one will have formed an alliance by now so we should be alright." I say, the look at Anvike for conformation, showing him that I'm not challenging his leadership.

"It's a good idea." Anvike says after a deadly pause, "We should go into two groups of two and a group of three. I think a talented group of two should search afar, a mixed group of three searches closer and a group of two stay at base, just while there can't be too many alliances. Any questions?" He looks around all of us, sweeping our faces. Then Daphne speaks up.

"Yes, actually. Who is going in which groups?"

At this Anvike smiles, "Well, I think we all agree that we need varying talents in each group as well as maybe the more suited ones going far away." We all nod as Anvike continues. "So I've decided that we'll have me and Precious going furthest, seeing as we work well together and have some of the best scores, as well as we're best suited looking for tributes and don't need much sleep. Daphne and Cecil should stay at base, leaving Suzie, Dral and Kara to search nearby."

"How long are we going for?" Suzie asks, glancing around.

"Ah. Yes, I think three days is a good amount of time, don't you?"

We all nod and start packing our bags. I know I'm not going far and could always go back to camp but still feel the need to carry supplies with me. Our group has agreed that we will go back to camp to sleep in the day, and I agree that it's a good idea. The watch at base have also agreed they will go out and also hunt locally when we are gone. Whenever we are remaining we will take watches, so someone is always awake. I shake my head to clear my thoughts and pack. I put in two boxes of crackers, two pints of water, a blanket (just in case), three bread rolls, a packet of dried fruit and some bandages. I hoist the backpack up and am surprised how heavy it is, it must be the water. I still have my belt with the five knives, though I've replaced two of them, one for a larger, chunkier knife which looks terribly dangerous and another with a smaller, sharper model in case I need to cut something or carve a message. I sit down on a nearby rock and suddenly I have an urge to sing. Everyone knows the careers are here, so singing shouldn't be a problem. I open my mouth and slowly and tunefully begin to sing.

_I'll listen to your troubles,_

_I'll mop up all your tears,_

_I'll come and help you out,_

_All through your years,_

_I'll be there when you need me,_

_I'll be there when you don't,_

_I'll stick by you forever,_

_For you I'll always dote,_

_I'll be your closest ally,_

_I'll be your best friend,_

_I'll help your forever,_

_Our friendship can't end,_

_I'll back you whatever,_

_I'll make sure I do,_

_I'll be your guardian angel,_

_Yes, I'll be there for you._

I finish singing and rest my feet. Then something startles me, someone is singing my song, and there is another voice joining in, repeating it so it echoes around. Eventually the forest is filled with song. There can't be that many tributes, and if it is them, why are they doing this? I only realize it could be a Gamemaker trap when I'm dashing through the forest to find the source of the sound. I've barely set a foot inside it when I hear a voice from one of the trees. I take out one of my knives from my belt, a normal one and look for the source. There, something moved in the tree. I let my knife fly and it shoots into the tree. It must have hit something because there is a loud squeal and something falls out on the other side. I dash around but just find a bird. I'm about to look for another tree but then I notice something. The bird, it's a mockingjay.

Mockingjays are a mixture of a Capitol mutt, called the jabberjay, and the mockingbird. Mockingjays can replicate melodies and, if you have the right voice, songs. I notice that it means that if I want to confuse someone I can always sing and they'll hear my song from all around them. I stroke the dead bird and then retrieve my knife, wiping it clean on the mossy ground. I don't know if you can eat mockingjays, but I do know that we have enough food back at the career camp, so I tuck my knife back in my belt and march back to my rock I was sitting on earlier. Now I've been in, the forest doesn't seem such a sinister place, but I know for those without night vision goggles then it must be terrifying. I sit back down and relax, waiting for Dral and Suzie to come.

When Dral and Suzie join me I give them my dazzling smile and peck Dral on the cheek.

"Let's go I say," and with that we go off into the tangled net of trees that we call a forest. We go to try to kill somebody.

**I'm going away so won't be able to update this story for almost a week; sorry if you want me to continue, I will the moment I get back. Please review, there is a LOT more of Kara's tale to tell and I want to know if people like it or not...**


	15. Chapter 15  Oh Deer

**A/N: **Excuse the bad pun which is the title of this Chapter – I honestly couldn't think of anything else. Proof read and published! ^_^ So if you find any mistakes (after I've proof read it, or even before) then could you please point it out to me in a review, because it would be a great help. Thanks! ;D

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><p>That evening the dreadful images of the dead haunt me from the sky, their pale and lifeless faces only available in my mind as I'm only shown a healthy representation of them, in many ways it's worse. I look up and see all the innocent faces that have been mercilessly butchered in the bloodbath and shudder, a deep shiver crawling across my spine. This is horrific. But I can't let out my true feelings, what with Dral and Suzie next to me, staring at the bare and open sky. The faces of the victims are broadcast in the sky right where we can all see them. I manage to hide my shudder as I look at the faces of the boys from district twelve and seven, the boys who may be very much alive if I wasn't here today. You never know, they could have even ended up winning the games and going home to their families. Their families! How they must hate me, despise the very ground I tread on. I have murdered their sons and I just flick my hair and continue with all my posh girly drivel. I knock the self hatred thoughts out of my mind when the anthem shoots out across the stadium along with the hunger games logo, projected in the sky. I have to win this thing, and I just can't afford to think like that right now.<p>

Dral nudges me to snap me out of it and I find myself gazing into his eyes. _Ok,_ I think_, you're Clara, the flirty, sexy girl who is going to spice this hunger games up a bit, remember? Do something daring, do something crazy, do something..._

I kiss Dral; on the lips. I freeze. I back up and avoid Suzie's glares. Maybe she had something for him. Whoops, I might have just ruined her chances there. Dral is just sitting next to me, stunned. Maybe that wasn't such a good idea. Maybe I should have just carved a heart into a tree trunk or something more subtle like that. But if it's one thing I've learned, Clara doesn't do subtle. Finally Dral blinks and I find myself clamouring all over him, part of me held back by Clara, but still enough of me to get the message out.

"I'm so sorry!" I gabble, "I don't know what came over me, just out of the blue I suddenly felt the need to kiss you. I'll never ever do it again."

"No! Its fine," Dral says and I let out a puff of air in relief, "and feel free to do it again."

I find my face going a rare shade of crimson and then we both burst out laughing at our discomfort and I see Dral shaking his head in embarrassment.

"I didn't mean it like that!" Dral says between gasps for breath and more relentless laughing, "you know how something sounds good in your head and then when you say it... I meant..."

"I know what you meant," I say and smile sweetly as Clara decrees, "but I'm taking it the other way, it sounds much more romantic!"

"So now you want to be romantic, when you're not commenting on my appearance or my general uselessness!" I giggle and soon I've set us both off again. Finally Suzie's had enough.

"Look, you're scaring off all the prey!" We both nod. Suzie's words have brought us back to earth. _Prey_, so now the other tributes have become little more than animals to be captured and killed. It's just like we're going hunting, which I suppose we are. We're tribute hunting.

The woods are wide and sparse and most tributes would have got well away from here, but some will have been injured and will be close by, hiding and nursing themselves back to health. We walk in silence until Dral whispers.

"Who's going to kill one once we find one?"

"How many kills have you had?" Suzie asks nonchalantly.

"Me?" I ask, "I've had two." The callousness of it hits me, now we're counting murders. We're counting how many people we've heartlessly butchered. But Dral doesn't seem too affected.

"I got one," says Dral simply.

"Same, I took out one too," Suzie says, "Therefore Dral and I should take the kills, we need them more for sponsors. I nod. This makes it look to the Gamemakers that I'm capable of the killing while I don't have to which is a huge relief. We stay silent as we trek through the forest, Dral at the front, cutting through annoying branches and brambles that get in our way, Suzie at the back, keeping an eye out for anyone that might be following us or hiding nearby and me in the middle, keeping my ears open for the sounds of anyone. Or anything. You don't know what the Gamemakers might have up their sleeves now.

Suddenly I hear a heartless moan, the type of an animal in absolute pain, yet something tells me this is no animal's cry of distress. Knowing that someone will pick up on it soon I motion for the group to stop. This is the fifth time I've done so, so Suzie rolls her eyes at me but we all stay deathly still, frozen like statues, and then we hear it again. It sounds like someone's been wounded, and badly if they're moaning like that. As Suzie motions for us to surround the target I creep off to the left and Dral goes to the right while Suzie slowly slips forward and she counts backwards on her fingers: three, two, one! We burst into a small clearing and I see Suzie's knife fly at the source of the groaning. But we soon see that it isn't someone at all. Actually Suzie's knife has just flown into a now dead deer. We look at each other, embarrassed that we were caught in such stupidity. The whole of Panem will be looking at us now, laughing at us. I can feel our sponsors draining away from us as we stand here, momentarily frozen. We have to react, and quickly. I'm struggling about what to say when Dral takes control.

"Great work Suzie," Dral says, Suzie pretends to act happily, like we were meant to catch the deer. None of us know why we're doing this, but we play along anyway. I decide to add a bit of jealousy into the mix, since I'm meant to have a crush on Dral.

"Well, it was nothing," stammers Suzie, acting embarrassed.

"Well I can't see why we needed to catch a stupid deer anyway; we should be looking for other tributes." I huff. Now people will be thinking it was our plan all along.

"We need fresh meat, the food at the Cornucopia isn't the same," Dral says, and if it wasn't for his eyes I'd have actually believed him myself. All of our eyes are screaming the truth but hopefully no-one will notice that, they'll just be focused on the rest of our faces, sure they'll be confused but at least we've drawn them off the scent.

"Anvike and Precious are more than capable of sorting the other tributes out." Suzie says.

As if on cue, there is a loud cannon shot from deeper in the forest, succeeded by a second. We almost jump and I glance in the direction it came from. Yes, that's where Anvike and Precious were. I gulp, it could have been anyone. Maybe it was Vivian; maybe I'll never be able to avenge my mother's death. But somehow a gut feeling tells me it's not and that she's still intact. _For the moment_, I add, my mind conjuring up wild fantasies of different ways of killing her. I disgust myself. I don't even know if I want her dead after she's been through all this with me, maybe she'll win; maybe she even will end up killing me. The thought sends another cold shudder down my spine and I look at Dral and Suzie, who are patiently examining the deer.

We end up hoisting the thing back to camp on a stick, having bound its legs onto it with some twine Suzie had in her backpack, and we now know we won't be bored if we get put on watch. With this dead deer around, there's plenty of chores that are a result of it. We'll have to clean it, strip it of its fur, and worst of all – gut it. I just hope I'm not the one put on watch duty, that's all. Dral goes first, clearing the way with his heavy sword, and then Suzie and I follow with this dratted deer. I don't know how we're going to explain ourselves but when I whisper my concerns to Suzie she just tells me she has it all under control. I doubt she has but I'm forced to trust her, we don't want to give the game away by arguing. We continue across the forest with the odd grunt of 'the others will be pleased with this' or 'I bet they didn't think we'd actually catch a deer or anything, more like a squirrel'.

Eventually we get to camp with the deer. Daphne is on watch and jumps up with surprise of our arrival, and probably the deer we're carrying between us on a stick..

"What the..." she exclaims as we trudge into camp.

"I know," says Suzie calmly, "When we said we would catch some meat while we were out if we could, I didn't expect we'd actually catch a deer or anything so... huge." Due to all of the commotion, Cecil appears out of the tent bleary eyed.

"What's going on?" he asks and then catches sight of the deer. If anything his reaction is even wilder than Daphne's. "What is that doing here?"

"Oh, we decided it was best to get some meat on the table since we only have crackers and nibbles really, and nothing beats fresh meat."

"But you're meant to be hunting for tributes," Daphne whines, reluctantly helping me and Suzie heft the absolutely giant deer.

"We'll get them in later watches, and anyway, who would be stupid enough to hang around here?" Dral says with an indifferent shrug.

"There could be wounded tributes." I huff, taking up the appearance of being jealous of Suzie.

"Well if they're so wounded they can't move then Cecil and Daphne will get them," Suzie says, rolling her eyes as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"Well, who's taking first watch?" asks Dral, breaking the sudden silence that has wrapped its icy arms around us.


	16. Chapter 16  Watch

I end up with first watch, never mind the fact I haven't slept in over twenty-four hours, the adrenaline is coursing through my blood, making sleeping absolutely out of the question. I'm wide awake. The sun starts to rise as I skin the deer with my array of knives. I've never done anything like this before and wish I had someone like Vivian to do it for me. Not Vivian, obviously, but someone who had done this kind of thing before. I have to appear strong for Panem so I strip the poor deer of its fur, feeling slightly queasy. Suddenly I'm reminded of the hunting song that I sang when I was in the 'meeting room'. I shudder. Like me, this poor deer is prey to the almighty Gamemakers. Not everyone in the arena might recognise it, but we're just pawns in their game, the real picture is to strike fear into the hearts of the districts, the real message the Capitol is displaying isn't 'happy hunger games' or 'may the odds be forever in your favour.' No, the real message is plain and simple, 'we can slaughter your children and force you to watch and celebrate it.' It's all one big display of power.

Finally, when I've de-haired the deer, Dral comes up to me and sits next to me on my log. I guess it's his watch now. I shuffle up to give him some space but Dral just moves next to me again. I guess he wants to be close. I freeze, unsure. I like Dral, he's really funny and good looking, but I don't want to get too close to him. Finally my decision is made for me when I remember all the prying sponsors and I sigh.

"Nine down, fourteen to go then there's only one of us left." Says Dral, smiling at me, but it isn't something I want to smile about. Nine innocent people dead because of the idiotic Capitol's show of power, if only they would submit the Capitol's children as well, I doubt it would have lasted a day without coos of 'My poor Heston got a nasty nick on the arm with a meat cleaver. Stop these barbaric games at once!' I sigh at the idea of no hunger games, life would be so much better. They could arrange another yearly festival to let people have a holiday instead but it could actually be proper celebration, not the grim hatred shown in the reapings.

"Are you OK?" Asks Dral, and I glance at him, "It's just that you've gone really pale."

I smile at him. "Yeah, I'm fine." I say, "It's just I miss my father." I look down at my hands, twiddling my thumbs.

"Yeah, I miss my family too," Says Dral, I know it sounds funny, but I never imagined Dral's family. I guess I thought of all the careers as shallow beings with no love for anyone.

"Tell me about them," I say before I can stop myself.

"Well, there's my younger sister, Juniper who is twelve. It was her first reaping and she was really scared, she actually cried at home before we left."

I don't want to brand her as anything but Juniper sounds a bit like a wimp, sure, you can be scared at your first reaping, but to the point of crying before you leave, well, that's just wimpy.

"Then there are the twins, Barley and Rye. They're both ten and are a real pair of troublemakers." I can see Dral smiling now, "Even though Rye's just a girl she's a lot tougher than Barley. She is just about the toughest girl her age, but I don't think my mother will be letting her volunteer after I was reaped."

"What do you mean, 'even though she's just a girl'? I could beat you anytime." I say, giving Dral my most evil glare.

"You're on!" Dral says and then lunges at me, knocking me to the ground.

He is just about to crush me when I stick my leg up into his ribs and redirect him to the side. Now he is lying on his back, winded. I lunge on top of him but he's ready for me and grips both my legs, tossing me aside as if I was a small animal, not a full weight girl of fifteen. But I'm not beaten that easily, I spring to my feet and kick Dral in the ribs, right where I winded him. As his hands shoot to his ribs in pain I successfully lunge on him and then we start wrestling around, rolling on the floor. He jabs me in the face and I manage to twist his arm in a deadlock, so he is unable to move. Then I place my weight on his two legs so he can't get up and then bend down and pause over his mouth. Slowly I kiss his him right on the lips. The smell of sweat is hanging in the air and I feel a bit queasy. I let go of Dral and then get up resentfully. That was the one time I kissed Dral when I wasn't being Clara. I get up and walk away. Dral calls my name but I ignore him and squeeze into the tent with Suzie. The action of the past twenty four hours hits me on the head like a massive stick and I find myself almost knocked out my fatigue and I fall into a heavy sleep.

When I wake up it isn't Suzie in the sleeping bag next to me, it's Dral. I suppose he swapped shifts with her, but still I don't feel comfortable. When I get outside it is still light but I guess it is late afternoon by the way the sun hangs in the sky. Suzie is on the log so I go and join her. She doesn't seem to be noticing me so I creep up to her.

"How are you?" I ask, Suzie spins around, knife in hand. "It's just me." I say, and Suzie relaxes.

"Sorry. I thought you were someone else." Suzie mutters and I nod apologetically.

"It's fine." I say and we sit in silence.

Suzie is in the middle of gutting the deer so I help her, I know it isn't perfect, squelching around inside the warm innards, but at least it gives us something to do. I dip my hands in the stream to wash off any dirt and stick my hand in, feeling it brush against squelching organs, sticky and still warm from the kill the night before. I prod several knives about, removing inedible organs and anything that looks too disgusting to eat. We continue like this for a while, in silence. Then suddenly Suzie speaks.

"Is it serious, you and Dral?" She says finally, breaking the silence.

"I honestly don't know." I admit, "I don't even know my own feelings for him, let alone his for mine."

"He likes you." Says Suzie, "He liked you from the moment he set eyes on you. He even commented on how you look."

Somehow this doesn't please me. It seems to be saying that he likes Clara more than me, the sexy, flirty, fun and bubbly me. He doesn't seem to have fallen for the real, calm, patient and thoughtful me. But I guess I've fallen for his alter-ego too, not the real him. Suzie seems to pick up on this.

"He likes you, Kara, isn't that enough?" Suzie says. The Capitol will probably be wondering about what we're talking about, but the districts won't. The districts will understand what I've done and what my dilemma is.

"No." I finally say, "No. It isn't."

And then the cannon fire bursts out of the bushes just a few metres away from us.

**Ooh... Tense ending, which tribute just died? (Gasp)! Please review!**


	17. Chapter 17  Tribute Hunting

When Daphne and Cecil get back they're smiling ecstatically.

"Got one," Explains Daphne, "Boy from district five, Cecil stuck him with his spear, his blood was _everywhere_!"

"He was whimpering like a kid, practically begging me to let him go!" Giggles Cecil, then he mimics the poor dead boy's voice '_no, no, I want to live. I have so much to do with my life'_.

"Did you?" Suzie asks.

"What do you think? You heard the cannon fie didn't you?" Says Daphne gleefully.

"Best thing was he was already wounded." Explains Cecil, "Daphne had got his leg in the bloodbath, there was pus oozing out everywhere. It was awesome!"

When Dral gets out he looks almost as disgusted as me by Cecil and Daphne's gleeful claims. We decide we can wait to go out tonight, leave a bit later, after we've caught up with who is dead at the moment. We sit around the campfire, eating a stew Dral and I cooked up when Daphne and Cecil arrived, I think we both decided we didn't want to be near them. We cooked in silence, not wanting to talk about earlier. Maybe it's for the best that we don't. It could be painful. I think Dral and I have decided to forget about it and turn over a new leaf.

The tributes faces enter the sky. This is a successful second day as we see the boy from district five that Daphne and Cecil got and then the two that must have been by Precious and Anvike, the girls from district 12 and 10. They must have formed an alliance pretty early on since they were killed just seconds apart.

We count the remaining tributes on our fingers, there's all of us careers, that's seven, then there's both from six and nine, as well as Vivian, the other eight, then there's the boy from eleven. That makes thirteen. I know there are fourteen left, it's just that I can't remember one of them when I really should be able to.

I slurp down my stew and then re-pack my backpack, filling it with supplies again, this time stocking it up with a pouch of dry deer meat. Even though hunting the deer was a mistake it turned out to be quite a good move as we weren't given any meat in the Cornucopia, the one thing that we had all been craving. I shake my head and then meet up with Dral and Suzie. They're both wearing their night vision goggles so I put mine on too, knowing that I only have to wait a few minutes for the darkness to ascend.

I head off with Suzie and Dral; we fall back into our old regime, Dral at the front, me in the middle and Suzie at the back. We are just walking through the forest when there is a rustle from the bushes at our left. We all creep forward and then I hear a thud from the opposite direction. I lower my voice to a whisper.

"I'll go and check out that thud over there, you keep on going." I say, barely a squeak coming out of my mouth. Suzie nods but Dral looks confused. When I start on moving in the other direction Dral starts to follow me but then Suzie grabs him and he gets it. I have the ten in training, so therefore I'm the one with the real talent. I can manage myself.

I creep up to the sound where I heard the thud and I see a figure clambering to get up a tree. I pretend I haven't seen them and then creep to the base of the tree. I reach for my knife and hold it up in the air so whoever is there can see that I've got a knife.

"I know you're there." I whisper up into the tree, "Come down and we can discuss something, otherwise I'll knife you."

The cold threat sends shivers down my spine, and it looks as if affected the person in the tree because they slowly clamber down. The figure is small and I am shocked to see June, the twelve year-old. I thought she would be dead by now, but I haven't seen her in the sky. It makes sense, stay low and hide in the trees. I shake myself, the Capitol will be watching everything I do, but I know I can't harm this twelve year-old, let alone kill her.

It examine her curly brown hair and tanned skin, her crystal clear eyes, looking like they only have a hint of grey in them. That's who we were missing earlier, we couldn't remember June. If I can't kill her then I'm just going to have to help her. June looks up at me and shivers. I grab her arm and she flinches, expecting the worst, but I am just feeling her temperature.

"You're cold." I say, and then fish around in my backpack, looking for the blanket. Finally I find it and give it to her.

"This should warm you up," I say, and then look in my backpack again.

"Are you hungry?" I ask, knowing the answer. June gives me a nervous nod. I hand over a packet of crackers and a container of meat, then add the packet of dried fruit and a bottle of water. I pause and then fish out a roll of bandages and then hand them over, I have more if I need them. Everything's plentiful at the Cornucopia. I know showing weakness will result in death, but I also know I can't kill a twelve year-old in cold blood, it's monstrous. Sure, I might lose a sponsor or two, but at the moment that's the least of my worries.

"Now scarper," I say, pushing June in the other direction from where Dral and Suzie are, "Before the others find you."

June nods and then runs off with amazing speed, and in a couple of seconds she is gone, not having said a single word to me at all. Just in time. Suzie and Dral clamber over.

"What was it?" Suzie asks me.

"Just a squirrel." I say, and in a way it was. June is just like a squirrel, darting about and staying high in the trees. I notice my backpack is open, and it could give the game away so I glance at Dral.

"What about yours?" I ask, quickly zipping up my backpack, hoping that no-one will see. No-one notices, they're too busy speaking.

"It was a boy!" Suzie says hurriedly, "The one from district six, he had a massive gash in his stomach and looked near dead anyway, but Dral finished him off, didn't you?"

Dral grins happily and then sees that my face has gone a pale white. I didn't think Dral would do anything like that. He seemed too nice, too kind. I guess I've found the inner Dral, not the funny, cute shadow of him I was shown. Why can't anyone be nice? Why can't anyone just be nice?

**PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE review... **


	18. Chapter 18  Jealousy

**Yes, all these recent 'chapters' have been quite short but if you're telling yourself 'write two chapters', then you're going to give yourself a break and write short chapters. Thanks for the reviews and keep reading – and reviewing!**

When we get back to the base in the morning after a night of running, hiding, creeping and false alarms my heart beat is going crazy and I'm absolutely shattered so I flop out and Dral agrees to take first watch. Soon, without any trouble at all I am falling asleep into a world of dreams.

_Dral stands there, smiling sweetly and then splits into two , identical Drals. They both call my name and I run to one, only to find it is a huge mistake. He rows taller and sharper, his fingers turning into long, raking claws and his teeth transforming into fangs. He grips me tightly and no matter how much I struggle I can't get away. I can't get away. I can't get away..._

I wake up, my lungs screaming for air and I feel a hand go across my mouth. I look up and see the culprit. It's Dral. Is he trying to suffocate me? I struggle and lash out but Dral calmly releases his hand and puts a finger to his mouth.

"I'm going, Kara. I'm getting out of this awful place, I can't stand it a moment longer. Having to pretend that I enjoy killing people, it's sick. I know you feel the same way, so please come with me. Come with me, Kara." He gabbles, his face distorted by guilt.

"Last night, when I killed that district six boy, his eyes, they never stopped looking at me, they were speaking to me, blaming me." Dral stops whispering as I nod in understanding. So this is the real Dral, not that horrible beast he seemed to be earlier, he's just like me.

"Yes." I say and get up, "Let's get out of this mess, and take a few careers down with us, eh?" Dral nods and passes me my backpack.

"I packed it for you, so we could go in a hurry." He says, "Daphne and Cecil got back a moment ago, we can take them out with the element of surprise."

If there's someone I won't feel guilty about killing it's those careers, the ones who enjoy killing and torturing others. Those types of people are people who should never have been born, those are the worst types of people there are. I look at Dral.

"What about Suzie?" I ask. We've both grown quite fond of Suzie and her quirky ways. I don't think either of us wants to kill her. "She won't come with us." I point out.

"We'll leave her. If we can sort Daphne and Cecil out quietly and quickly then we'll leave her." Dral says, evidently having the same thought pattern going through his brain as me. If Suzie finds out she'll fight and we'll have to fight back. That means killing her. I shrug, it's a risk worth taking. Only one of us can survive after all, and I want either Dral or me to nab that spot. _Preferably me,_ I remind myself. Dral isn't something to get distracted about.

I poke my head out of the tent and am about to exit when I have a massive shock. Suzie is with the others. I leap back in the tent and tell Dral. He's as shocked as I am. Maybe she couldn't sleep, maybe it's her turn for watch, or maybe they're hatching a revenge plan of their own. All I know is Dral and I aren't going to kill Suzie if we can avoid it.

So Dral and I sit in the tent, hatching a plan of how to kill Daphne and Cecil while getting Suzie out of the way for long enough for us to escape. We sit there for almost an hour, plotting and scheming until we have our plan.

Dral and I exit the hut, giggling and messing around. Dral whispers something to me and I peck Dral on the cheek, seemingly oblivious to the other three careers sitting on the log. I glance over, pretending I have something in my hair, no, Suzie's not moving. Dral grabs me and kisses me on the lips and ends up almost snogging me full-on. I push him away and glance at Suzie. As we planned, she's looking uncomfortable, what with her enormous crush on Dral, but Cecil and Daphne love it, practically lapping the stuff up. I hug Dral and he kisses me on the forehead, and whispers something in my ear.

"What? I didn't hear that." I mutter awkwardly. Getting this close to Dral is putting me off him, and I can't believe I even listened to his stupid plan. It's never going to work, Suzie isn't going to move.

"Suzie's gone into her tent." Mutters Dral, and steers me towards Daphne and Cecil.

I join into Dral's laughter and turn with him. We then collapse onto the bench next to Daphne and Cecil. They smile at us and we mutter a 'hi' before Dral reaches down my body where I have his sword tucked into my belt. I do the same to him and find my hand on the massive meat knife he has tucked into his belt. How Panem will be lapping this up, this is one of the most eventful hunger games so far. Then Dral mutters something, our action to go words.

"I love you"

With that both I and Dral leap up and face Cecil and Daphne, who are suddenly so shocked I really should have taken a picture. I take one look at Daphne and then throw my knife in her lungs, killing her instantly and insuring she doesn't scream – a trick I picked up in training.

Dral has a more improvised version of ensuring that Suzie doesn't pick up on what's happening – clasp his hand over Cecil's mouth and then skewer him, ensuring no sound comes out of him. When we are sure they are almost dead, teetering on the edge, but there is no way they can survive; Dral and I hoist the backpacks onto our backs and sprint towards the forest and cover.

As soon as the cannons sound I can hear Suzie tear open the flaps and call. "Who do you think that was guys? Guys?" Before a long and painful screech; the other careers will see Daphne and Cecil's face in the sky tonight and head back towards Suzie. But now there are only three careers and there are two of us, the games look a lot more promising and I realize that we might have an actual chance in winning this.

Suzie has no idea where we went and I think she's decided that she better stay at base and wait for Precious and Anvike to come. All I hope is that she doesn't do anything too crazy and endanger lives. But now Dral and I are free. We're free thanks to one marvellous thing, jealousy.


	19. Chapter 19  Trekking

**Please review about the chapter length – if it's too short, just right or long (I doubt it's too long). Also review to tell me what you think about this chapter and the previous chapter and if you like how the thing is progressing overall or if you get some de ja vu from any hunger games books and my story (hopefully not). Also check out my page if you haven't already done so and vote in my poll, because I need help! **

We trek a bit deeper in the forest and then slope around, trying to get in the other direction, the other way from the forest, so Suzie will think we're opposite to where we actually are. We walk all day, with only breaks to eat or drink and we don't talk. It's best that way. I think we're both a bit confused about what happened back at the career camp. Finally Dral breaks the ice.

"About all the kissing..."

"It was the plan." I say, "We kept to the plan."

"Yeah, but I think I might have gone a bit too far."

I think back to him snogging me full-on. "Maybe," I murmur in agreement.

"Well I just wanted to say I'm sorry."

"You don't need to."

"Don't I? I thought you'd be furious."

"Nah, we got what we were wanting, we saved Suzie."

We trek on for a while longer, but then I stop and signal for a rest. Dral sits down and glugs some water and I rifle through my pack. Dral has packed well. But I feel we're missing something. Bandages! I look at Dral and whisper.

"Bandages, You haven't packed me any bandages!"

"Never fear, super Dral is here!" Dral says.

I roll my eyes like Suzie used to. How ridiculous is he? He's almost like a three year old, but unfortunately he doesn't have the right mental capacity to string a proper sentence together which doesn't have something to do with superheroes. I tell him this and he slaps me, his hand cracking on my cheek. I look at him in amazement and he looks down, guiltily.

"Sorry, Kara." He mutters.

"You should be," I snap, "That hurt!"

"As much as this?" Dral asks and gives me a Chinese burn. I flinch and draw my hand away.

"Since when did you get obsessed with violence?" I ask.

"Never, but I just recently got obsessed with violence towards you." He says. I give him evils but he ignores me.

"Why would you want to hurt me?" I ask, fluttering my eyelids.

"Because you're a self-obsessed, idiotic pompous brat." He says. My mouth curves into an O shape as I take in the insult.

"What?" He asks.

I smile slowly, knowingly. "I get it, you're acting like me." I say. "I get the hint, I'll be a nicer person." He nods.

"Just after I've done this," I add. I give him my 'killer pinch' on his thigh, twisting and turning his flesh, and he groans in pain. I just smile sweetly.

"There, I think my lesson in manners is complete." I say, my voice back to it's Capitol maximum.

After that short interlude we get up and continue walking, Dral limping slightly on the leg I pinched and me humming to a tune I used to sing when I went on long walks.

"What's that you're humming? It sounds familiar."

"Oh, just a trekking song." I say, staying elusive.

"Well go on then."

"What?" I ask.

"Sing it. I'll be the backing." Demands Dral.

I find myself obliging and I start to sing the song.

_While we walk along,_

_(Oh while we walk),_

_Let's sing the trekking song,_

_(Let's sing the trekking song),_

_While we move about,_

_(Oh while we move),_

_Let's all join in and shout,_

_(STARTING)_

_Beyond the trees,_

_(Oh way beyond),_

_And past the bees,_

_(Oh so so past),_

_Where we are one,_

_(Where we sing as one)_

_Let's sing the trekking song,_

_(Oh yes let's sing)_

_While we walk along,_

_(Oh while we walk),_

_Let's sing the trekking song,_

_(Let's sing the trekking song),_

_While we move about,_

_(Oh while we move),_

_Let's all join in and shout,_

_(WALKING)_

_After the fog,_

_(Oh yes after),_

_Following the log,_

_(Oh not the log),_

_Where we are as one,_

_(Where we chant as one),_

_Let's sing the trekking song,_

_(Oh yes let's sing)_

_While we walk along,_

_(Oh while we walk),_

_Let's sing the trekking song,_

_(Let's sing the trekking song),_

_While we move about,_

_(Oh while we move),_

_Let's all join in and shout,_

_(FINISHED)_

We walk along in silence and then Dral interrupts.

"I'm starting to wonder if that was such a good idea."

"What was? The singing?"

"No, leaving Suzie, I was wondering if it was such a good idea."

"Yeah, me too, I mean, she's dangerous and she has to die anyway." I say, adding in my mind 'so does one of us'.

We walk on for a while and then the silence interrupted by cannon fire. I jump and find myself hugging Dral. I quickly prise myself away from him.

"Who was that?" I ask.

"No idea," says Dral, "My bet is on someone we haven't seen yet."

'_Vivian'_ my mind says, but I ignore it. When it gets too dark to see we slip on our glasses and look at the sky. The career pack never splits so early, it picks off the other contestants then splits; I wonder what will have happened. Then, just as we predicted, the faces start to appear in the sky. Daphne comes first and I can almost feel the amazement that Precious and Anvike will be feeling at the moment, let alone the other contestants. Then Cecil appears, in the sky, gazing down at us. I see Dral gulp so I rest my hand on his shoulder.

"He deserved it, Dral. The way he boasted about that poor district five boy, it makes me sick." I say and I can see Dral nod through my glasses. I leave it like that, I feel guilty about Daphne too. I felt like a backstabber, which I was I suppose. Then the girl from district nine's face entered the screen. I wonder who got her. Ah well, I shrug, it's no big problem, probably was Anvike, precious or that guy from district nine, Rip, I think his name is, yes, Rip Knead. He probably got her; he seems like the kind of person to do that kind of thing. Kill his other contender from his district. Yes, horrible. Then I realize that's what I've been planning to do all along – kill Vivian, the other district eight contender. Well, I'll wait till the final eight, and then getting rid of anyone is a skill, and it doesn't matter if they're in your own district. You just ignore their families, and anyway, Vivian doesn't have a family. My father killed them all. I realize why Vivian hates me, after all her family died because of my father.

I thought Vivian had no family. How wrong I was.


	20. Chapter 20  See you Later Alligator

Eventually we decide we better get some sleep. It's about halfway through the night and the day's action is catching up on us. We decide to get a move on in the morning and make up for the time wasted sleeping. We're too tired to pitch up a tent, even if we had one, so we end up settling on the floor. Awkwardly there's only one blanket. I suggest for Dral to do the chivalrous thing and let me have it, he suggests for me to do the polite thing and let him have it. We end up sharing. I'm almost embarrassed enough to let him have it. Almost. Unfortunately for us, the Gamemakers seen to have sneakily been dropping the temperature so we were absolutely freezing. I think back to when we were in the career camp in those nice, snug tents and the crackling fire. Dral tugs the blanket off me so I shove him and steal it back. I guess Capitol people don't still think I'm an innocent posh girl, but maybe that's for the best.

One thing I can't understand is why it's so cold. If the Gamemakers want it to be torturous for people then send mutts in, but mucking around with the temperature isn't fair. Then I have to remind myself that the games _aren't_ fair and that they're doing it to annoy us. Well, more than annoy us, they're messing around with the temperature to kill us or drive us to lighting a fire which would result in death. I slowly drift off to a freezing sleep, riddled with fears and worries.

_There is blood all over my hands, and no matter how much I rinse them or wash it off it stays and sticks like glue, sticking to anything I touch, never leaving. There is blood on my hands and it won't go away. What do I do? What can I do? Will it ever go away? There is blood on my hands._

I wake up, gasping for air, my face ridden with sweat. The hunger games is getting to poor little Kara Jaymond, they'll be saying and my sponsors will flutter away and sponsor Precious instead, which I can't let happen. I spend a moment collecting my thoughts and look around. Dral is already up, fixing breakfast. I don't even know if Dral can cook well. When we made that stew in the career's camp he was trying to add the most ridiculous of ingredients. I shrug; some things are best not worried about. When I join him Dral looks startled.

"You're up!" He says, surprised.

"Well done, have a gold star." I mutter, using my hands to comb my hair which has returned to its straw colour and texture.

"How was your night?" I ask eventually, feeling guilty that I stole his blanket.

"I couldn't sleep." Dral explains, "Took me a few hours."

"I know, what are the Gamemakers doing, fiddling with the temperature. Can't they make their mind up?" I ask Dral, feeling guiltier by the second.

"No. It was too loud." Dral says.

"What was?"

"Your snoring." Dral explains.

"I do NOT snore," I say, waving my hand in front of his face for defence.

He bats my hand away, "You snore all right." He chuckles, then imitates a loud snoring noise, mouth posed in a grunt.

"I don't snore!" I protest again, hitting Dral with the blanket.

"Oh yes you do!" teases Dral, "Of all the people I've heard when they're sleeping you're the loudest, even louder than my dad!"

"I doubt your dad will be happy about you saying that," I point out, "Anyway, I protest."

"Protest all you like." Says Dral, "You snore!"

In the end I give up and start eating the stew Dral has prepared. It isn't half bad, but isn't the kind of thing you have for breakfast. I point this out to Dral and he glares at me.

"If you're insistent of keeping to the time of the day, I'll have to make you aware of the fact that it's not breakfast since it's not breakfast time. I'd make it a sort of brunch."

I look up at the sky and see Dral's right. It's almost the afternoon and we haven't set of yet. Before Dral can object again, we've packed up our things and are on the move again, this time a bit slower than before.

"Why do we have to move again?" Asks Dral like a whiny toddler. I guess he has become a bit like that recently, whiny and pathetic. I tell him what I think about him whining and he hits me with his rucksack, which is surprisingly heavy. I guess Dral must have put all the heavy essentials into his pack in case I didn't come. I wonder what Dral would have done if I'd have said no to going with him. Would he have killed me? The thought sends shivers down my spine, but I trek along anyway. Technically, I'm just an obstacle in his way that he has to overcome. Basically he is the same to me, though I think we're a lot more than that to each other. I hope we're a lot more than that to each other then obstacles because that is what's keeping me alive, Dral. He saved me from the careers and now I'll have to save him somehow. But the thought still strikes my mind – _only one of us can win these games, and no matter what I feel about Dral, it has to be me._

After a few more hours of walking we finally reach the edge of what looks like a swamp. I can't really tell because the ground dips steeply into a valley, but the trees are swamp trees and the ground is boggy. We continue along, ducking under slimy creepers and skeleton branches, reaching out to grip us. Finally we manage to push our way past algae and slime to reach a shallow pool of muddy water underneath an overhanging decaying willow. Without any conversation, Dral and I both crouch down and fill our water bottles, then set the water up for purification.

The purification process should take a while so I sit down on a mossy rock and Dral rests on a gnarled log. When he just places himself on it, it suddenly lurches to life. How could he have been so stupid? Dral just sat on an alligator! Dral notices what he has just done and runs to me, I've already got knives drawn, one in each hand. I shoot them both at the alligator, one in the tail and one on its back. Then I realize how Dral mistook it for a log. The Gamemakers have supplied the alligator with some sort of wooden body armour. It is made out of wood! My knives simply stick into its wooden outer shell. I've never seen this mutt before and realize I don't want to have to see it again, its wooden tail swishing around, splattering dirty water everywhere.

I'm about to flee when I notice our water. The only water we have is on the other side of the alligator. We're going to have to get past it. Now I realize how I've been having it easy while all the tributes were out battling Gamemaker mutations or mutts as we call them.

"Kara, our water." Dral says, staying stiffly where his is as if he is petrified.

"I know!" I hiss, and then I look at the alligator. Its body is made of wood and my knives are still embedded in its outer skin. _Outer skin_, a thought hits me. Perhaps it is only wooden on the outside, maybe it's real on the inside, and if it's real on the inside then we can get it. As if in answer to my thoughts I see a swish of pink on the alligator's undercarriage. I ignore this magnificent beast which is slowly and surely swaggering towards us, ready for its next meal. I notice the bulging stomach and think carefully, well, at least I know where the tribute from district nine is. Rip didn't kill her, this alligator did.

"Its belly," I say, "Go for its belly, there's no wood there."

Dral nods and makes a complex sign motion with his fingers. I look at him, confused. Draw rolls his eyes.

"Now!" Dral calls at me, impatiently.

He charges to the left of the alligator and I stumble to the right as the alligator lunges forward to where we were before, its jaws wide and gaping. Dral gets his sword and cuts the alligator by the edge of its undercarriage, just making it angrier. It turns and snarls at him, its teeth slathered in rotting meat. That's a tribute that doesn't need a hovercraft.

It's about to attack Dral when I force my meat cleaver knife into its tail, making it focus back on me. The cleaver has held it into the ground, rooting it there, but it will escape sooner or later. I quickly tug out the remaining bits of deer from my backpack and lob them on the floor in front of it. It gulps them down in a matter of seconds. I see Dral grab the water cartons and purification system and we look at each other and nod.

"Run!" I scream and we do.

Dral dashes off into the swamp, me hot on his tail. Backpack in hand, only a small knife and a normal one left and just having one of the scariest things happen to me ever. I can hear the alligator lumbering after us but I know it won't catch up with us. One disadvantage of being made out of wood is that it's very slow.

"See you later alligator!" Dral calls as he speeds off into the tangled net of trees.

We dash off further into the swamp to find somewhere to hide, with a hope that maybe the Gamemakers will leave us alone after that display. Maybe.

**OK. He sits on an alligator, that's the oldest one in the book, but I explained WHY he was stupid enough to do that... it's made of wood. Please review. I wanted something different with this chapter and I think I got it, but I don't know if you'll like it or not, since my 'action' scenes aren't that great.**


	21. Chapter 21  Base

Dral and I end up climbing up a tree. It turns out that Dral isn't all that bad at climbing, despite his size. He's already on the highest branch when I'm still struggling to hoist myself up onto the very first one. He clambers down like a monkey, at ease in the trees. He grips my hand and tugs me up. Eventually, after a minute or so of heaving, I'm up at the top with him. We wait patiently and see the alligator waddling around beneath our tree, evidently confused. Dral smiles at its discomfort as we stay frozen still, unable to move in case it does anything.

Eventually, after a few painstaking minutes, it swaggers off, probably having found the scent of another unfortunate prey, taking its wooden armour with it. We stay poised up the tree for another half an hour, just to make sure it really has gone and then clamber down. I sigh, contented as my feet reach solid ground and steady my shaking legs. I never thought I was afraid of heights, but I guess I was never really accustomed to them. Back home in district eight we would stay with your two feet firmly rooted to the ground. Dral seems unaffected by the vigorous climb and brushes himself down to remove any clingy bits of bark and wandering insects.

I copy him and soon we are both standing up, eyes locked, frozen like statues. We both seem to be waiting for the other to speak and take control of our situation.

"Which way?" Asks Dral, turning all attention to me, "Shall we go further into the swamp or do we back out now?"

"We've come this far, I don't see what's stopping us continuing." I say, trying to block out images of the wooden Alligator out of my mind, lumbering towards us, mouth gaping, ready to engulf another helpless tribute.

"I agree," Says Dral, snapping me out of thoughts of shredded meat and vanquishing pictures of the Alligator's pink, bloated stomach.

I nod and we form our previous formation with Dral hacking away at any wandering creepers and me now staring into the tangled net of vines to see if the Alligator has somehow picked up our scent and is following us. It isn't.

Eventually, after almost a full day of struggling through the knotted undergrowth and chopping down huge clumps of vines which stray in our way we finally reach a small hill. The trees and swamp slowly end to create a watery uplift of land which is relatively drier than the rest. There is a small cluster of trees at the top, swarming over a small pool of rainwater which is clear and looks safer than the other water in the swamp.

Dral and I establish this as a base; it has squirrels and such in the trees which are available to hunt, a reliable water source and is up high so we have a view of our surroundings. Also it has trees which can be used both as a shelter and cover if anything dangerous comes our way. I collect some long branches and stick them into the ground, building a sturdy skeleton of a shelter with them. Then I weave the remaining sticks through the template to make it more solid. Finally, as the sun drops low in the sky, I slather it with mud and animal dung then coat it with leaves. It may be smelly, but it'll become waterproof with a bit of luck. Then I leave it to dry and join Dral who has been trying to cobble together a meal of sorts without the use of fire.

Eventually we sit down and eat under the protection of the trees, the sun just disappearing under the majestic mountain. I doubt anyone is up there, but if they are and they can survive there is probably little need to worry about other tributes, since no-one is going to risk life and limb up there in a hurry. The mountain may look beautiful from here, laced with snow, but is probably slathered with Gamemaker traps as well.

The sun sinks down, leaving us o suffer at the hand of the icy night. I look at Dral. He's alert and immediately suspicious about everything. Nothing can get past him, he's more alert then a wary fox. Before he entered the games he was lax and free, but now I find as I look at him he's changed entirely and has completely shed his outer carefree skin and has become hard and alert. the games have changed him, as no doubt they've changed me.

"It's rude to stare." Says Dral, brushing his blonde mop out of his eyes with a cheeky grin. That's the Dral I met, always has an annoying comment up his sleeve. I find myself talking to him properly for the first time since the Alligator attack.

"'See you later Alligator'," I scoff, "Is that really the best you've got?"

Dral chuckles awkwardly and winks at me, probably more for Panem's benefit than mine. "Well, at least I said something; it wouldn't make it as interesting if I hadn't." Dral points out and then pokes me lightly on my shoulder. I smile weakly at him and he nods when he notices I'm more shaken by the whole episode then I'd like to let out.

"Guess what I thought when I first saw you." Dral says, changing the subject. I don't like where this is going but I play along anyway.

"She's so amazing; she's going to win the hunger games." I guess, speaking slowly and sarcastically like I don't care, Clara wouldn't care. But I do, Dral matters to me, but I won't let it out otherwise I'm doomed to a horrific Gamemaker trap.

"You're very highly strung, aren't you?" Says Dral, poking me again. I slap his hand away but actually I find it quite relaxing. "No, I thought 'she's going to be easy prey in the arena.'"

"What?" I ask, surprised, "You think I'm easy prey?"

"I _thought_ you were easy prey." Corrects Dral.

"What changed your mind?" I ask, ten I bite my lip as I realize I sound too eager to know, but Dral hasn't noticed.

"That knife stunt. I didn't see you move. You caught the whole of Panem by surprise, never mind me. I actually thought you were going to kill her. Originally I just thought you were a rich daddy's girl who didn't stand a chance, but then I saw a glimpse of the real you."

I smile. "So the _real_ me struts around threatening people with knives and is totally unpredictable." I say, surprised by Dral's outburst. He nods enthusiastically at my words.

"Yes, right on. The _real _you is weird, wacky and terrifyingly frightening." He says, always a smile on his face and for a second I want a protector, someone who will guard over me and keep me safe.

We sit together for a while, talking about this and that, but always steering the topic away from the arena and the position we are in – at least one of us has to die. Eventually the hunger games logo springs up into the sky, followed by Panem's anthem. No-one has died today; the Gamemakers will be getting bored, hatching a new terrifying plan to endanger another poor soul, slaughtering them in the most imaginative ways possible or driving tributes together. I look at Dral and we both know what the other is thinking – who's going to die next?

The next morning I wake up to the smell of animal dung and mud. Evidently the smell didn't dry off with the rest of the hut, but that's the least of my worries. Dral is next to me and has hoarded the blanket so I lie there, shivering cold. I probably look quite a state now, and I probably look like the most horrible tribute in the arena. I wiggle out of the makeshift hut and back off to admire my handiwork, no, the hut just looks like another bush, albeit a weird one. I leave Dral sleeping; he needs the rest, and go outside. It's still dark yet I feel like I've had a really long rest and have been sleeping all night. I don't mind though, it just means I can have a quick soak in the pool and rinse off the dirt without Dral seeing me.

I strip off and wade into the pool, it being a lot deeper than I thought. It comes up to my waist so I dip down and feel the icy water embrace me, wrapping its way around my body. Eventually, when I feel that all the dirt's gone and my hair has no more clumps of moss in it, I prepare to come out when I feel something slippery brush past my leg, without thinking I stick my hand in and pull the thing out. It's some weird type of fish I've never seen before. I quickly fling it out of the pool, in case it might harm me, slip out of the pool and wait for the sun to come up so I can dry off. I wait and I wait but the sun doesn't come up. It must be earlier than I thought, so I run laps around the pool until the air has dried me off moderately so I'm not soaking and I slip back into my clothes.

Just in time, because I can hear Dral coming out off the hut. Luckily Dral packed a pair of night vision goggles so I slip them on and look at him in the creepy green light. He's stretching and lumbering around, feeling with his hands and guiding him to his rucksack. He fumbles around in there for a while and snatches the other night vision goggles out of his pack and shoves them on, poking his eye in the process. He spots me and staggers over groggily, as he's just got up. I smile when he does and we exchange grunts.

"Time?" asks Dral, evidently too tired to string together a sentence. Luckily I get the idea.

"No idea, Dral, I got up about an hour ago, but it's not light yet." I say and take hold of his sweaty palms. I guide him to a log which I have checked thoroughly that is not an Alligator and we sit down. He sighs and stretches, his hand roping around me. I shove it off violently and Dral gets the message. I've had enough of that kind of thing. So we wait patiently in silence for the sun to come up.

But it never does.

***gasp* the suspense! It's killing me! What have the Gamemakers done now? Thank you to everyone who has reviewed, it has been extremely welcome, but I'd love it if I had MORE! **


	22. Chapter 22  Darkness

**If you've read up to here, well, I'm genuinely surprised! But I want to make something clear – this is the 70****th**** Hunger Games (or something similar – that's why I never announced it), but the point is this is BEFORE Katniss and Peeta's joint win, so there can only be ONE winner. I'm just warning you now... Also I'd like to tell you that I don't write in present tense, but Suzanne Collins does so I've tried it. It'll probably turn out to be a mix of both, so I'm sorry if that confuses you!**

**Also **_**please**_** review and tell me what you think of these characters, because I have no idea what you think about them. For all I know you could be reading this because it's so bad it's funny! So please review – I take anonymous reviews, so if you don't have an account you can still state your mind. Also feel free to PM me if you have any feedback or questions about this or any other of my fics. Read and enjoy (hopefully)!**

At first we think we have got up in the middle of the night, but slowly the reality dawns on us. The Gamemakers had performed another terrible trick and now we arestuck in eternal darkness, an everlasting void of black. Not even the moon shines, it creates a hollow space in our goggles, no light crossing it at all. We slowly grow accustomed to the lack of light, even wearing our goggles when we sleep. Dral evidently leant something about setting traps in training because that's what he does now, catches animals and we both prepare them. He also forages and even tried fishing after he recognised the fish I caught in the pool and we found it was edible, but we haven't caught one since.

I set about purifying water and making the shelter feel more homely. Even if it's just temporary, I want to feel more comfortable on the few nights we might have left in this clearing; it feels like a sanction, because I know if there were any Gamemaker traps on this hill they would have been set off already to spice it up a bit. After another day without any deaths Dral and I settle down in the hut. I'm sure we're featuring enough so that people know we're alive and well but with the darkness that has just come, Dral and I with our night vision goggles probably don't make interesting TV.

One of the rare luxuries everybody in Panem has is access to is a TV. By law, you're required to see the three hour recap of the hunger games at the end of the games and you're frowned upon if you don't watch it frequently, not that you can escape it, that is. At school there is a giant screen where they play the hunger games in the corridors and in the lunch room. Also if you just walk down the streets of district eight you're faced with screens glaring down on you, so yes, when I say _everyone _in Panem I mean _everyone_ in Panem.

"How are you coping?" Dral asks as I coat the hut with another layer of mud, manure and leaves. People will think he's talking about we handiwork, but I know he's actually asking about the whole games in general.

"It's hard." I say, honestly, slapping another handful of goodness knows what on, "I didn't think it would be this hard when I started out."

Dral finishes the squirrel he has been gutting and shuffles up next to me and joins in. "It's easier with the two of us, though." Dral says, more of a question than a statement.

I sigh. "Yes, a lot easier. But soon we'll finish it and then you'll go back to your fishing and I'll go back to my renovations. Otherwise everything will collapse." I say, pointing to the hut. But Dral knows what I'm telling him. We'll have to split soon or the Gamemakers will do something. He looks hurt but he nods.

"Why don't we finish this tomorrow?" He says, patting on another load of muck. He means either the alliance or the conversation, I don't know which.

"Should I just do it or shall we both?" I ask, acting innocently as I pile on the leaves over the mud. Hopefully he'll understand my question.

"We should stick with it a while longer, until it breaks." Says Dral and we both continue to waterproof the hut. Eventually we finish the layer and both get up, stretching. Dral adn I are going to stay together for the time being, and Panem had no idea about the whole conversation. They probably won't even show it since it doesn't look important. That evening, though you wouldn't know it was evening due to the ongoing darkness, no faces appear in the sky. The Gamemakers must be really cranky now, since there is no action. I fish into my backpack and find a pack of ten elastic bands. I have no idea why they were at the Cornucopia or why Dral packed them for that matter, but I grab one and fasten my hair in a tight ponytail I feel a lot more comfortable now my hair isn't dangling in front of my face and I braid it carefully so it swirls in a delicate pattern.

As I braid my hair I find myself singing. I don't want to alert anyone of our presence so I continue quietly, so quietly I doubt even Dral could hear it.

_One, Two, Three and Four,_

_I want your life more and more,_

_Five, Six, Seven and Eight,_

_Will you come and take the bait,_

_Nine, Ten, Eleven and Twelve,_

_Into your heart, I will delve,_

_Thirteen, Fourteen, up to Sixteen,_

_Your death is my ultimate dream__,_

_Seventeen going up to Twenty,_

_You're so weak, helpless and petty,_

_Twenty-one, Two, Three and Four,_

_I want your life more and more,_

_I need your life more and more._

I don't know where I heard that song. I recognise it alright, it's when you learn the numbers at nursery but the second line has been changed after each number so it's about someone convincing someone else that they're their friend when they're not. I pause as I rack my brains for the cause of the song. Finally I remember.

When I was younger, just before my mother died, Vivian and I used to be quite good friends so I used to go to her room quite a lot. I guess I wanted to be friends with someone who didn't pretend around me, although it turned out she did and she hated my guts. When I was passing her room I heard her chant that very same song. I was puzzled so I entered and I found Vivian sitting on her bed, legs crossed and chanting to her heart's content. When she saw I had come in she jumped up but when I asked her what she was chanting she just muttered something about a song she made up and changed the subject, but I have always remembered that song and all the words, I guess it just stuck in my mind.

But what happened afterwards is the thing that makes me jolt upward and my braid unravels, spinning until it's back at a ponytail. After that, on that very same day, Vivian had convinced me to bring her the keys to the house so she could get something from the pantry for both of us, so I had crept into my father's study and stolen them to hand over to Vivian. I guess I wanted to impress her; anyway, my father had strictly banned me from going anywhere near the pantry and Vivian and I had planned to have a midnight feast. So stupidly I had handed all the keys over to Vivian. The keys that later that night would unlock the front door, the keys that would enable the men to come in, the keys that would let them try to kill my father, the keys that would make them kill my mother.

Yes, it is my fault my mother is dead.


	23. Chapter 23  Complications

Dral gets back from foraging and finds me crying. I'm not exactly hysterical, but I'm pretty shaken. He rushes over to me to see what the matter is. I feel my heart twinge as he worries. Why can't he see what a monster I am? My mother would be alive if it wasn't for me and I know I'll end up doing something to him too eventually.

"Are you OK? Have you been hurt?" He asks hurriedly, scanning around me for any precarious knives or pointy objects which could have snared me by accident. I just shake my head and continue sobbing, tears dripping down my cheeks. I place my head in my hands and howl, my body shaking. My mother is dead because of me, it's all my fault!

"If you're upset about something, then keep it down OK?" Says Dral, stressed. His bluntness hurts but I understand where he's coming from and sniff, the worst of by feelings out of my system. Dral looks goofy, standing next to me as if hopeless and he awkwardly sits down on the log and wraps his arm around me. I make no attempt to shake it off so he props my head up with his other hand and gives me a smile. I return one half-heartedly and Dral beams.

"Now there's some improvement. Do you want to tell Dral about what happened?" He asks me as if speaking to me like a baby, referring to himself in third person. I tell him so and he chuckles softly, making me feel a bit better. The hunger games isn't for wimps and I know all the crying won't go down well with sponsors unless I do something radical which will make up for the fact I've been sobbing, even make people think I did it on purpose. One second I'm staring at Dral longingly and the next I'm right next to him, my knife glinting in through my goggles as it is gripped tightly against his throat. It may be dark but everyone in Panem will be able to see what's going on, since all of the cameras are equipped with night vision. The moment I do so I immediately regret it, but I can't back out now. I don't want to hurt Dral but I have to explain my actions.

_Kill him, _part of me hisses. I block it out immediately and try to think of something romantic yet deadly to do. Clara immediately pops up; _carve a heart into his cheek with your knife_. The thought hits me. I won't hurt Dral. If I hesitate a second longer, though he might kill me in self defence. He doesn't know this is all a charade that has spiralled out of control.

"Kara, put the knife down." Says Dral smoothly, coaxing me. I just grin at him as if the whole plan was to get him close to me so I could get a knife at his throat. I slowly draw the knife across his neck. _One inch closer and he's dead_, I tell myself, being extremely careful. I then drop the knife on the ground and wink at Dral, smiling sweetly, making sure the cameras will see all of this. I then lock eyes with Dral who is staring dumbly at me. Now it's either make or break.

"I'm a contender too, you know." I say, brushing my braid out of my face with the back of my hand, and then I walk off as if nothing happened, only leaving a menacing laugh, and Dral standing there, dumbly gaping at me as I start gutting a rabbit he caught. I don't know what to think, but I might have just got away with it. I don't know if Dral will ever trust me again, though.

That night I sit on the log next to Dral and when the anthem blares out I know I only have a minute to explain while they won't be able to tell. No-one's dead tonight either. Something will happen tomorrow, I can feel it. My actions might have just saved the day from disaster, spicing up the games, but I know it's just a matter of time before the Gamemakers get bored and start braying for more blood.

"Listen, Dral. I was crying because I was upset about something to do with my personal life, but it was all a cover up." I say, hurried. Dral listens, intently, not chipping in like he usually does, but listening this time. _My personal life_, I'm talking to him like I would my so-called friends, who are all probably kicking themselves that they didn't visit me – a victor is the richest of them all and I DO have the highest training score of the lot. Maybe I'm in with a chance after all. I snap out of my thoughts by the anthem reaching its final verse.

"I didn't mean to threaten you, I just didn't want to appear weak, and if anyone else was here it would have been them, not you. I'm really, really, really sorry, but can we still be allies?" I say, relieved, until I realize it's all gone wrong. The anthem cut out so the whole of Panem heard me say the end, 'Can we still be allies?'

I can almost feel all the eyes of Panem on Dral and he suddenly has lost all his ease, but then it comes back again after a few awkward seconds of silence. Silence, which is so cold it pierces the skin. What Dral says now is definite. He could make us go on together until the end or snap it in two and we'd fight it right here, now, in cold blood.

"Sure," Says Dral and I feel my heart start again; he's acting as if it's no big deal, which is both good for him and me, "What would you do without me?"

I run up to Dral and dive on him, giving him the biggest hug I have probably ever seen in my life, certainly the biggest I've ever given anyone. Dral staggers backwards under my weight and we both topple over into the freezing pool of water. We both emerge, absolutely soaked and laughing the cold off. I guess he really has forgiven me and he grabs my hand and heaves me out of the pool, but doesn't let go afterwards. I don't want him to let go, it feels like I have someone who I can rely on, someone who can steady me when I feel I'm about to fall. We get into the hut and wrap the blanket around us, so we're being kept warm. Then we huddle together and for once I'm glad that we only have one blanket because Dral's body warmth is both useful and comforting and as I feel his chest heave next to mine I feel an inner peace.

But I know this can't last forever. I leave or the Gamemakers will drive us apart, I can feel it happening. This alliance is too strong, we need to be broken. So I leave tomorrow or one of us dies, and whether I like it or not, I care too much about Dral to let that happen. Tomorrow I'm going to have to leave all this behind – Dral and our camp. Tomorrow I'm going to grab the bag I've packed, exactly half the supplies and our blanket. I feel guilty about that; it's cold enough as it is. But I know I'll need it more than Dral where I'm going, because I'm going to the mountain.

**I didn't want to split them up either! **** But the story has to move on and that means getting rid of Dral... for the moment. I have two possibilities of what to do so I have to ask you this question – what do you think of Dral? Do you like him or not? Please review with your answer or PM me because it's crucial for the story line and I want at least five answers before I can move on with the story properly, because I need to know which direction to steer this story in! **


	24. Chapter 24  Escape

**I'm still waiting for some more comments about Dral and how you feel about him and if you want him to stay around in the games for a bit longer. PLEASE PM me or review, it would be REALLY helpful to see if you think his time has come or if you want more of him because I'm stuck between two choices of what to do with him (one does involve death). But if you want to review or PM about anything else then that's good – I just want opinions on Dral.**

I get up after a blissful three hours of sleep. I feel my senses screaming for a few minutes more, but I deny them. I don't want to risk falling asleep and then waking up after Dral or I'll never get away and the Gamemakers will do something, I'm sure of it. Quietly I edge my way out of the shelter and reach the bottom of the hill with the bag hoisted on my back. I'm just about to leave when I remember something – I've forgotten the blanket! I creep back up the hill and scuttle into the shelter. Dral has the blanket draped around him. I sneak up and slowly tug the blanket. It takes a while but after a few painstaking minutes I have it in my hand! In a split second decision I bend down and peck Dral on the cheek, somehow I have a feeling that I won't be seeing him again. There is a red lipstick mark left on his cheek – I don't know what the remnants of the lipstick are from, but I know it's enough, a message. Tears well in my eyes but I push them back, he's not worth crying over. I stuff the blanket into my pack, dash down the hill and I don't look back.

I enter the swamp and merge with the shadows, slowly slinking away into the darkness and heading towards the mountain, it now looking a lot more intimidating than it did before, but I squash any doubt creeping into my mind and continue at a jog towards the mountain, looming over me with an abundance of power, totally overwhelming me. I shake my head, clearing it again of any worries and keep on moving, finding that I have stopped.

I can't see as well as I could with the light but I know that I can see a lot more than the other tributes. They don't have any night vision goggles and are probably as blind as Dral was when he came out of our shelter, unable to see. I change my thought pattern quickly; I don't want to think about Dral. I'm going to the mountain where there will be a lot of snow, Gamemaker traps and ice. But the reason I'm going is I need to get away from people. I'm a dangerous ally to be around and I don't know if I'll notice what is going on in the Gamemaker's heads in time if I form another alliance, though I really enjoyed being with Dral. Dral again, I vanquish all thoughts of him from my mind. It'll be cold in the mountain, and I don't have any protection. All I have is the blanket I tugged off Dral in the last moments I saw him, followed by that kiss.

_Snap out of it!_ I find myself telling me. Great, now I talk to myself, another sign of madness. Ever since my name was picked out of the reaping ball I seem to have slowly been drifting away into a world of my own. I guess I'm going mad. Madness is something I guess I can cope with, death, however is not an option, so I force myself to continue moving and I don't stop until I'm hours and hours away and I know Dral will be stirring, and it will slowly dawn on him that I'm gone forever. The missing blanket, half the supplies gone and the lipstick, he'll hopefully understand, otherwise he'll be confused. But he'll know why I left. It couldn't last forever, one of us has to die and I don't want to be there when it happens.

I keep on telling myself that I've done the right thing but something, deep down inside me says that I've made a mistake, and no, I'm not talking about Clara. It's more an inner me, rather than the flimsy facade I've grown around me for the games. I shrug it off and take out my anger on the vines draped in front of me, slicing them mercilessly until they are little more than a mashes pulp. This doesn't calm me, though and I feel anger boiling up inside me. It's too late to go back – I'm just going to have to put up with what I've done and get on with it, I've taken a one way road to solitude.

I march forward formally, ignoring the pain that's bubbling inside my heart. Is it really best for Dral? Now he doesn't have anyone to cover his back, and on a more important matter neither do I. The thought sends a cold shiver trickling down my spine, but I push my feelings aside and march on. If I continue walking at this steady pace I should be at the mountains by tomorrow. Hopefully something radical will have happened by then.

Suddenly a cannon shot echoes through the air from the direction of the career camp. It looks like Anvike and Precious got home and they're not happy. I know they both will have no feelings of remorse or guilt in their minds – they're cold blood killers, they even enjoy torturing others, seeing them suffer. I feel upset. Even if it was Suzie, and she's a career, Dral and I specially went out of our way to keep her alive, but now she's dead anyway and it's still out fault.

I am about to bite my lip when I remember what I told myself and shake my head. It doesn't make me feel any better, but at least it clears my headache. Wearing these glasses for ages has a really bad effect on you. They're meant to be for short term use, not to use permanently and they make my brain ache if I use them for too long. Luckily I can use this as a system of measuring time, because I usually get a headache in late afternoon. This means I really should start thinking about finding a base near me.

I finally settle down in a tall tree which isn't as dead as the rest and wrap the blanket around me. I haven't slept with a blanket fully since I was in the career camp so the warmth is comfortable, but I know it will get a lot worse later on. Everything in the games rickets up in price every day for the sponsors, so you could buy about ten bottles of water on the first day for the same price as one later on. I know that I'm going to the mountains and it's going to be cold, but Hercules and Lumina don't. Maybe if I let them know somehow without alerting the Gamemakers. I lie in the tree, unable to think of anything. Eventually I sigh and look up right in the sky where I know a camera will be hidden, filming my every move.

"Mountains," I mouth, staying silent so I don't alert any other tributes that might be nearby of my presence, "I'm going to the mountains."

At first I think it's all a failure but suddenly I see a silver parachute flutter down and I reach out my arm to grab it. It's quite big and my hopes rise considerably. Finally, something warm to sleep with. But when I rip open the parachute I find myself holding a lengthy piece of rope. I stretch it. No, nothing hidden in there, it's just a firm, sturdy piece of rope. How's that going to help me? But still I feel happy to know that I do have sponsors out there who are willing to give me even the most useless of things. Although I may act like I'm reassured, though, I'm not. What if I had too little sponsors so they couldn't even afford a blanket and I'm meant to weave my own? I shake the thought out of my head and then slip into a troubled sleep.

_I'm in the woods and I'm lost. Whenever I turn I find myself back at the hill – the hill where Dral and I stayed together as a base until I ran away. Whichever direction I go I find myself back here, at the hill. I slowly creep up and enter the shelter, maybe Dral's out hunting. But he's not and he'll never hunt again. He's lying on the floor in a pool of something, blood, his own blood. I look down at my hands and see them coated to, and holding a stained dagger. I press it down and match it up to the hole in Dral's back. It's the same. Then Dral groans and comes around and before I can do anything I find myself stabbing and stabbing and stabbing and stabbing..._

I wake up at the sound of Panem's anthem and my breathing slowly returns to a norm. Great, I missed the dead tribute. For all I know it could be anyone. The thought strikes me. It could be Vivian – or Dral. I find myself slap myself on the cheek. Why am I so obsessed with Dral? I can't escape him – he even invades my dreams. He has to die for me to live; if he's dead it'll be a relief, meaning that I don't have to kill him myself. If it's Vivian, however, I think that's the one person I don't want dead. Not because I like her or feel sorry for her, no, because I want to kill her myself, slowly.

I notice I've hardly slept but I don't want to sleep now. Even though I've got the whole night ahead of me I still feel like I need to move and stretch my legs to I slide out of the tree, making sure that I don't injure myself on the way down, that's the last thing I want. I slip out and wander out into the night, the darkness cutting into me. I'm just about to go back when I see a green blob move out of the corner of my eye. I check again and look carefully. It's a tribute – the girl from district six, I think. I carefully eye her. I think she's stalking me by the way she's creeping towards me through the bushes and I see a bow and arrow in her hand. Killing the girl with the highest training score is sure to get her sponsors, which isn't good for Dral, and more importantly, I don't want to die. I pretend I haven't seen her and reach for my knife on my belt. It isn't there. I must have left it in the tree. I freeze, terrified. The girl from district six, Martha-Rose Fall, I think her name is, pulls back the string of the arrow and lets it fly right at my heart.

**Is this the end for Kara? Will she die at the hands of this scrawny girl from district six? (Probably not because I have LOADS more chapters to write) *ahem* Find out in the next chapter of... 'Gnawing Hunger'!**


	25. Chapter 25  Fall

**I've sorted the whole plot out – so thank you for all your useful feedback and ideas; it really helped me to decide everyone's fate (which I have now done). One more note, though I'm sure you want to know what's happening to Kara after THAT cliff-hanger!**

**You may be thinking 'Kara is just like Katniss', and if you are I'm sorry, but I have to tell you she isn't (or at least I'm trying to make her not like Katniss). Katniss surrounds herself with a stony shield and doesn't seem to feel any emotions, but I've tried to make Kara as realistic as possible and yes, she will break down into tears and feel emotions, but she does try to stop it for the hunger games – she's not a Vulcan (**_**star trek reference**_**). Also please tell me how I can make Kara more of her OWN PERSON, because I really need the help. At the moment some of you may think she acts like a bit of a Katniss Duplicate in which case please help me and PLEASE REVIEW! I need help more than you do. If you don't think that review anyway and tell me... **

**So... back to the story! Martha-Rose Fall has just unleashed an arrow flying right for Kara's HEART! *dun dun dun*!**

Just seconds before the arrow is about to strike I dive to the ground, feeling the arrow whizz just millimetres above my head. It was a close shave but I'm taking no time to reflect on my luck so I jump to my feet straight away and bolt, seeing Martha-Rose stumble after me. She's an excellent shot – it would have hit me right where she aimed for if I hadn't pressed myself to the floor just in time. She must have goggles too, to be able to see me, but I have noticed something that my goggles didn't pick up and I'm leading her right to it. Hopefully this will give me a chance. I can hear Martha Rose crashing through the undergrowth and already my legs are burning from sprinting full on. My muscles are screaming at me but I ignore them, I want to stop to catch my breath but I know that will only result in death so I press on, pinching my leg to keep it active, but only bringing pain.

Finally I get to where I have been planning to lead her all along and stand on the balls of my feet, raising my hands above my head, seemingly in defence, although I have another motive as I carefully scramble with the rope I was given by my sponsors.

"At least come out so I can see my murderer." I call, making my voice shake nervously. That isn't too hard. The word 'murderer' seems to touch something in Martha-Rose and I feel really bad when she creeps out, knowing it's me that will be the one that is going to be doing the murdering and she'll be the one on the receiving end. I grip the rope in my two hands, flexing it. Martha-Rose notices what's happening too late and struggles to load her bow as I whip the rope at her, knocking her bow aside as forcing her to tumble onto the floor, grazing her knees as she slides across. That would have been one move on a dance floor, but here it just looks excruciatingly painful, but Martha-Rose ignores it and tries to get up. As she struggles to get up and grab her bow I turn the rope around and toss the other end at her foot. It misses. I hiss, frustrated, and try again. This time it loops around perfectly and when I yank it she gets tugged towards me and the rope tightening. Now I'm glad I paid attention at the knot making class, it sounded like a stupid idea at the time but now I owe that blathering idiot of an instructor my life. The thought of it makes me tug harder, knowing that he'll be boasting about it to his stupid Capitol friends at the moment, saying how he saved my neck.

I sling the end of the rope over a less decayed tree when I can't pull any more. The branch creaks as Martha-Rose's weight is transferred onto it but luckily it doesn't break – I don't trust dead wood. Martha-Rose nearly escapes and I can see her straining to reach her bow and arrow. I freeze in despair at her hopelessness but am back in action in enough time to grab hold of the rope which almost whips out of my grasp, almost. I tug again, now using my body weight to drag her towards me. Little does she know between us is a chasm, a little hairpin crack compared to the canyon which is a boarder in this games to prevent us escaping from the arena, but one big enough for her to fall in. I hoist the rope again and I feel her muscles flexing, trying desperately to get out of the knot, trying in vain.

Eventually I drag her so she's dangling just over the chasm. As the realism of what I'm going to do hits her tears well in her eyes and she screams a long, mournful screech which echoes across the arena. I better hurry up if I don't want other tributes turning up to see what all the screams are about. I'm screaming too as well, if only in my head. This is cold blooded murder that I'm about to perform. This isn't self defence. But in a way I know it is. If I don't kill her the Gamemakers will think I'm soft and kill me too. Letting June go has to be a one off, if I let Martha-Rose escape too then I'm no fun in the games and will be eliminated. I stare in her eyes, begging her to forgive me and tie the rope so I can see her properly. Now all hope of living is lost and she is just dangling over the chasm of despair, knowing I'll drop her in sooner or later. She puts on a brave face.

"Come to gloat?" She asks, her face laced with anger though I know it's just a mask for all the helplessness she must be feeling. Her speaking like that in her position would seem almost comical, the way she in dangling upside down only by her foot, it's like from a story that is made up. But this isn't made up; this is real so I only feel sorrow. But then she softens a bit. I think she just saw the tiniest of tears that just trickled out of my eyes. I blink but it has escaped. She understands; she was going to kill me, after all. I am about to slice above her foot to break the rope when I give her one shred of decency and remove her goggles before I do so. Now she won't be able to see the terrible drop I'm bestowing on her, except bestowing makes it sound like a gift and what I'm going to do to her is no gift. I am trembling and know if I hesitate now I will never get the appalling deed done so I grab Martha-Rose's one remaining arrow and slowly saw away at the rope. It starts to fray and I daren't look in Martha-Rose's eyes because I know she's not struggling. She's lost the will to live. The end of the rope slowly flakes off, fluttering into the chasm where I know Martha-Rose will never return from. Finally she is suspended from one tiny string which will snap at any moment, I'm surprised it hasn't already. I look deep into her eyes and recognise the fear there, the fear that is so strong I know it would overpower a nation – but not me, for today I am as cold and unreachable as metal. Important and vital, but impossible to find or touch. I give one last look at Martha-Rose, then lean into her ear and then whisper words to her – the last words she will ever hear.

"I'm sorry." I whisper, and then slice the final thread, releasing her to her death.

Martha-Rose's scream echoes up the chasm and reaches me, almost paralysing me until I heard a horrific crunch followed by cannon fire which makes my whole body shake with the cold grip of revulsion. She's now dead; she's now dead because of me. I killed her. I walk slowly back and untie the rope, winding it back around my arm, cutting out my blood supply. This little punishment is nothing, nothing compared to what I did to her. I can see her back cracking into little pieces and a final sob escaping her frozen lips before her dilapidated body is left until I go, so then the hovercraft will collect her. I find myself on the verge of tears and a tingling feeling creeps up and down my body – fear. What have I done? What kind on monster have I become?

My sorrow is filled with anger; anger at both me and the Capitol. I'm no longer part of the Capitol's stupid games. They may have made 'Martha-Rose Fall' fall, but I'm not going down without a fight.


	26. Chapter 26  Loneliness

**By the way. I've just published a short one-shot about Dral and his slow realisation that Kara has left him when they leave the camp. Look in my profile for it. I'm thinking of doing several different one-shots on different people's perspectives for different moments. It's called 'The Realisation of Hunger' and if you can't find it then it probably hasn't uploaded yet. Please look at it and review - It would be much appreciated :) Also it reveals Dral's REAL name (Dral is just an abbreviation)!**

I get back to the tree after several wrong turns and somehow slip off to sleep, but the night's episode hasn't lessened my nightmares – it just made them worse.

_Four souls stare at me tonight. Last night it was just three, but another has joined and now there are four souls. I seem them all, the boy from district twelve I maliciously knifed, the boy from district seven who I killed to help Dral; Dral, who will have to end up dead anyway. Daphne is there, staring at me. I threw my knife into her lungs and she couldn't even scream. Then the final soul is here, closer than the rest, just staring at me, unmoving, unblinking. Martha-Rose, and still around her foot is the noose I used, the hangman's noose. The edge of the rope is frayed and I can see the pain in her eyes, I can see the pain in all of their eyes. Them; the children I murdered._

I wake up screaming so I quickly clamp my hand over my mouth. I look around me, no-one is here, but I better move. I open my backpack and look inside. I have the jacket from the boy from twelve and Martha-Rose's goggles. I swap my things for theirs and soon I feel the burden on me, I am wearing their things. Them; the children I murdered.

The dream is coming back to me so I think of the one thing which is more overpowering then sorrow – revenge. I heave myself out of the tree and grab my rucksack, keeping light on my feet. I stumble forward and soon I'm back into the jut of yesterday – _left, right, left, right_. This simple action keeps my brain occupied for a few hours and soon I'm engrossed in the moving of my feet.

How many of us are there left? Around ten? I count on my fingers. There's eight of us left! I count again. No, I haven't left anyone out. There's Precious and Anvike, I'll suppose Suzie was the one who died that I missed, then there's Dral, June and Vivian. That makes five. Then there's me, Rip and the boy from district eleven, Alvin, I think his name is. It's unusual for someone like that to get into the final eight. The final eight! The shock hits my hard. I'm in the final eight! Just seven more people standing between me and victory, just seven people standing between me and going home.

I continue walking, my legs growing accustomed to walking. The mountain is drawing closer and closer. Soon I'll be at the base of it. I think I'll camp there for one night and then start climbing up. My plan decided, I press on; trying to get as much distance away from me and everyone else as possible, and the mountain is the perfect place to go. I may be dangerous, but I'd rather not have to go around near other people. There's a chance I might run into Precious and Anvike; the deadly pair.

Eventually, after another few hours of walking I reach the base of the mountain. The swamp water below me has slowly frozen into ice and the odd puddle has been replaced by small patches of snow. One second it was raining and the next it's sleet and then I'm in snow. I giggle, I haven't been by snow for years and it unleashes the inner child in me. Soon I'm dancing and catching snow on my tongue, and then I halt, the silver flakes no longer bringing delight to me for what I've just seen has almost paralysed my emotions. This is not good; this is not good at all.

Through the greenish light of the night vision goggles I can see the base of the mountain before me. The ground's good for a base, it's almost too perfect. But that's not what made my freeze as if part of the icy landscape itself. What made me grind to a halt is the mountain itself. The base is vertical, just like a cliff. I put my hand out and touch it, the ice feeling smooth and impenetrable – there is no way I can climb up the mountain now. I'll just have to camp at the base, and hopefully no-one will come near me; hopefully no-one will come near the mountain.

I set up camp at the bottom of the mountain. I find a tree which doesn't look as dead as the others and clamber into it bleary eyed, now the sleep is catching up with me but I manage to stay awake long enough to see Martha-Rose Fall appear in the sky, grinning at me. Everyone else that has been in the sky is glaring or looking upset, knowing it will be used to project in the sky for their killer to see. But somehow Martha-Rose's face looks a lot worse and the guilt trap has caught me. Why is she smiling? Why does she look so happy? She knows this will only be shown if she's dead. Why did she have to smile? I just stare at her, she seemed happy, it looked like she was having a good life. Why did I have to do that?

Killing in the bloodbath was tolerable. The boy from district twelve was a mistake, a stupid mistake. The boy from seven was to save Dral and I only killed Daphne because I had to get out. But Martha-Rose was just cold blooded murder and I know I shall forget my callousness and cruelty. I killed two girls and two boys and I shall never forgive myself, ever.

I drift off to sleep, just to be greeted by another nightmare, another squeeze of my conscious revealing the true me.

_This time there's just Martha-Rose, smiling and giggling as she grows up. It would have been a happy dream if it wasn't tinted by what I'd done to her. She's having a picnic with her family. They're giggling and messing around, and then it's a surprise birthday party for her, she's ecstatic at the news. Then she is with her friends, talking and joking, true friendship. But next is the most terrifying of all. Next she is sitting down on a bench with a plain looking boy, but she doesn't seem to think so. The sun is setting and they are holding hands. Suddenly the boy leans in to kiss her, but just a millimetre away from her lips the dream flashes so all I see is her lying on her back in a pool of her own blood, back broken in several places and limbs twisted around. But what really scares me is that she's smiling, she's grinning and her pearly white teeth gleam in the darkness. _

I wake up, gasping for breath and I want someone, anyone to wrap and arm around me and tell me that it's alright, that it's just a dream; that those things never happened. But no-one comes and I am left lying in a tree feeling an emotion which I never thought I would feel in my life, let alone in the arena. Loneliness.

I miss people, I want to be with someone, anyone. I just want a warm hug and a coaxing smile. I want a reassuring squeeze of my hand or a helpful pat on the back. But the only people I can see are the dead haunting my memory. Vivian's family, my mother, and of course, the tributes I've killed.

I never thought I would be lonely since I've spent my whole life hunting for solitude, trying to ward off my so-called friends. But now I've got it I want someone to be here, with me, while I struggle through the games. Truth be told, I miss Dral. Badly.

I snap out of my thoughts by biting my lip, the head shaking isn't working for me. I gaze up in the sky, past all the leaves in the trees to see the stars winking at me. But I can't see, something is blocking my way. I stand up and bat it out of my way, making it shake. But then, all too late I realize what it was that I have just hit.

A trackerjacker nest.

**Whoops! Not great to hit one of those. Way to go, Kara! A big thanks all who have reviewed, and thanks to all who haven't and are just reading this. But IF you are just reading this then what's the harm in reviewing? I don't bite! Just press that button there – yes, that one! I know you want to!**


	27. Chapter 27  Venom

**This chapter is nice and short – but I like it. Please tell me if you do too and need I say anything? (Evidently yes) REVIEW, REVIEW, REVIEW!**

The trackerjackers swarm out of their nest, mad that I've invaded them, or at least they think I have. Each little wasp has enough venom to send me into mad hallucinations. If I get stung by three, I'll surely die. I jump out of the tree, hitting the floor. I feel a sharp twanging pain in my ankle – I think I've twisted it. I ignore the spasms of pain coming from my ankle and limp towards the mountainside. I'll be in a lot more pain if the trackerjackers catch up with me. I need to find water – and quick! But there is no water; it has all been covered in a thick layer of ice which I won't be able to penetrate. I look around for a rock or something to smash the ice but all I can see is a blanket of white in every direction.

That's all there is here – ice and snow. Snow! A crazy thought hits me. Snow basically is frozen water. Maybe... It's worth a shot! Either I try it or I get stung to death by trackerjackers. I sprint towards a snowdrift and hear the trackerjackers buzzing around me, one stings my shoulder but I carry the pain into my sprinting, making me a lot faster. The pain of it sears through me and I can feel the venom entering my system and coursing through my blood. I desperately want to stop and pull the sting out but I know if I stop now it may result in death.

I see the snowdrift, just metres away from me and take a quick glance behind me. The trackerjacker swarm is buzzing, about to go in for the kill. I only have seconds left – this better work. In a split second decision I dive heard first into the snowdrift and bury myself under the snow. I quickly wrench out the sting and press it safely into the snow beside me. I can hear the trackerjackers buzzing around impatiently. It seems to have worked. I let out a puff of air and smile – I got worried there for a second, I thought that I was a goner.

I massage my ankle and then examine it. It's just a sprain. It could have been worse – I could have broken it. That would have meant I was out of the final eight altogether. They'll be interviewing my family and friends now. I shiver imaging my gaggle of followers pouring on. Well, at least it'll keep my posh act up. I don't know if my father will be able to cope to have an interview – it seems too hard for him. Hopefully he'll be useful, might even pull in a sponsor or two. I wonder who will present themselves as Vivian's family. I guess my father will fill in, but I don't think Vivian has any friends. That thought makes me upset, reminding me that she, like me, has no friends, but I cut it out. I'm going to kill her in my mother's name so I don't think being empathetic is going to help, it might even stop me. But that isn't going to happen.

Suddenly the world seems to turn upside down. Maybe I should have pulled that sting out earlier; the venom seems to have got to me. I shiver as the ice presses around me, suddenly claustrophobic.

Everything has gone shiny and fuzzy, the snow squeezes me tighter and my whole body has turned blue, but still I hear the constant buzzing. I close my eyes, only to see the faces of the dead tributes, not just the ones I've killed or the ones in this games, but children brutally murdered throughout because of the Capitol, Martha-Rose at the front, smiling at me. I scream but as I open my mouth more snow pours in, making it impossible to breathe. Then the snow turns into red ants, crawling about in my mouth. I know it's just a hallucination because I can breathe fine, but it's so vivid.

I have to scare the venom off, fight back or I'll die of hyperthermia here in this snowdrift. The venom is making it impossible for me to get out because I don't know whether the trackerjackers I am hearing are real or not. For all I know I could get out of this prison just to be stung to death. I take a deep breath and begin to sing.

_Feel the wonder, feel the beat,_

_Don't feel upset, just feel sweet,_

_Know the answers, feel no pain,_

_Do this and you'll be back again,_

_Just fight, fight, fight,_

_For your life, life, life,_

_You will win, win, win,_

_It's your thing, thing, thing,_

_I'll hold your hand and touch your heart,_

_Keep on fighting, that's a start,_

_You can do this, you can't lose,_

_Just get on with life and don't be bruised,_

_Just fight, fight, fight,_

_For your life, life, life,_

_You will win, win, win,_

_It's your thing, thing, thing,_

_Feel the loving, know you're free,_

_Don't stop moving, win for me,_

_Don't struggle, feel no pain,_

_And soon you'll be with me again,_

_Just fight, fight, fight,_

_For your life, life, life,_

_You will win, win, win,_

_It's your thing, thing, thing,_

_This is it, just one more piece,_

_One more moment, you're complete,_

_The last second, do not tire,_

_Just step back and admire,_

_Just fight, fight, fight,_

_For your life, life, life,_

_You will win, win, win,_

_It's your thing, thing, thing,_

_Just fight, fight, fight,_

_For your life, life, life,_

_You will win, win, win,_

_It's your thing, thing, thing!_

I have had my eyes clamped firmly shut throughout the whole song and eventually I open them. There is nothing shiny around me, and I actually have quite a bit of room in this drift. I stay silent and listen out. There is no buzzing from the trackerjackers and I know that I'm safe. I slowly creep out of the drift. The trackerjackers must have left because their nest is on the floor. It might have fell down as I exited the tree or in the trackerjackers struggle to get back in. Either way, they're gone for good and I return to the tree. I grab my blanket from the tree and stuff it into my rucksack, smiling at myself.

All of my original loneliness has been vanquished. I have the whole of Panem with me, I should feel overcrowded not lonely. I stretch and then pull down my shirt. Then I fasten my blanket around me like a cape. It's crude but it's effective enough. I then turn to the base of the mountain. I don't know how, but I'm going to climb this thing.


	28. Chapter 28  The Slippery Slope

**This may look short but... OK it's short; but I wanted to make it nice and quick because I'm tired:-0 *yawn*. I told myself I'd finish this before I went to bed which was a REALLY bad idea because now I'm too tired to write a really long authors note. Just review, OK?**

In the end Lumina and Hercules sort it out for me. My sponsors may be supplying the steady flow of cash but they're the ones who are directing it to me and deciding what to give me and where and when to give it. A silver parachute tumbles out of the sky and I reach up and catch it. Inside is a pair of boots. I look carefully at them. Why would I need a pair of boots? They're almost identical to mine. But when I turn them over I realise. On the bottom of the boots are spikes which can be used to grip onto ice. I look at my two remaining daggers and smile. This might actually work.

I grip onto my daggers like my life depends on it – actually, my life does depend on it since I am balanced precariously high up in the air with only my shoes and daggers to hold me up. If the Gamemakers send an avalanche now it's all over, but they won't, I'm making too much good TV. Getting rid of me now would defeat the whole point of the show – to make a message, and the more imaginative my death the better. I don't mind, as long as I live for longer I refuse to let it get to me. I remember hearing about this technique a while ago, I don't know when from. Ideally you would use two pickaxes, but my daggers seem to be working fine, even if one is smaller than the other.

The idea is that you cut out holes with your pickaxe, or in my case, a knife, and then you slowly edge your way up. It only works if you have the special boots though, ones with spikes in them so they can grip the ice. My slightly improvised method seems to work and I ignore the cold biting away at me, burrowing its way under my layers, and keep on swinging upwards. The slippery surface is hard to get a grip on, but once you start you can really get in the swing of things. I make sure I don't overdo it though and always have three limbs firmly planted into the ice.

I make it to the top without a blemish and am about the relax when I realize the ice at the top has slowly eroded away and become thinner so I can't get up last few metres. Fury engulfs me but I push it back and try desperately to ignore it. Anger means acting rashly, acting rashly means mistakes and mistakes mean death. I coolly look up and try to calculate the angles of everything, which trying to look unfazed. It's hard knowing that all the eyes of Panem are on me and I want to scream out loud, but that probably wouldn't help at all. It would alert the others of my position and probably make me less likely to gain any sponsors.

Then the snow starts to fall. It starts off with a slight patter of snowflakes and then soon turns almost into a full blown blizzard. I can barely see my hands in the ice, let alone navigate my way back down. It's up or nothing now. I'm about to swing my axe up when I notice the ice carving over my boots and slowly shift and re-grip each one alternately, then do the same with my hands. I have to get up there, I can't keep this up for much longer, but how do I?

Then I see it. There is an overhanging rock just above me which loops up. If I could lasso it I could just the rock to pull myself up. I carefully remove one hand, keeping the knife in the ice and use it to unzip my backpack slightly. Luckily the bit I open has the rope next to it. I carefully tug the rope out and stare at it in my hands. Finally, I have something. I hurriedly zip my backpack back up and hold the rope in my one had. The thing is I don't know how to make a lasso – the stupid instructor never told me how. I decide I'll have to use a noose, even though it may not work it's worth a shot.

A thought penetrates my mind. What if I wasn't the only one who came up to the mountain, someone else must have singled it out for a quiet spot. But yet something holds me back – if someone else got to the mountain then there would be a less perilous way up, maybe on the other side. Why hadn't I thought of that? Now I'm stuck up on the middle of a slippery slope with only a half finished noose for company which really isn't a prime model of what a noose should be. _Great, _I think, that's what's keeping me alive – a rubbish noose.

I finish the noose and admire my handiwork. It's passable, just about, but it was hard making to with one hand and even harder because one end is frayed and has become unravelled from where I cut it. I try to block images out of my mind about what happened when I cut it so I concentrate by throwing the noose towards the overhanging rock. To my surprise it hooks over the rock with ease and seems perfect when I tug it. I thought it was meant to be third time lucky every time you did something like that, but I suppose that is just in films and I have to remind myself that what I'm doing is real and I'm not just some superhuman fictional character who can overcome everything and anything; I'm just me.

I tug the rope and it stays so carefully I withdraw the knives from the wall of ice and lean back, resting back on the rope. For one terrifying moment I think it's going to snap but it just shifts and holds my weight. Slowly, though the darkness is terrifying and the snow blurs what little green tinted vision I have, I hoist myself up. It's a bit like abseiling but backwards and it requires all of what little energy I have just to move upwards. I move though, progressing at a snail's pace but progressing none the less. Finally, after what seems like an hour, I grip the edge, the ice almost burning me with how cold it is.

I heave myself up and over the edge with a sigh and collapse at the top of the vertical ice cliff. Finally I've got to the top of this, but what's next? There has to be something in my brain – a little plan that's been formulating, but I just find empty space. I wanted to get up here and I have, but what now? Do I just go back down? I look at the face of ice I just climbed, already healing itself of the scars I dented into its pure surface. No way am I going back down after that. There's only one I thing I can think of doing – go up.

So I take my breath and look at the sky to see what the sun says the time of day it is, but I am only confronted with darkness. I forgot, the black is impenetrable and everlasting – it will never go. I sigh and start climbing the mountain. I may only have a few hours left before I should start setting up camp for the night, but I should use them well. So, up it is. Up until I reach the peak.

**Also I wanted to say that I am aware that this chapter's title is the same as the tenth book in 'A Series of Unfortunate Events' by Lemony Snicket, but I just say that's his fault for choosing that name. He evidently went forward in time, saw my chapter title and used it! So no, I'm not disclaiming this, saying it belongs to Lemony Snicket, I'm saying it belongs to ME and he better appreciate it! :-)**


	29. Chapter 29  Follow The Silver Ice Road

**You're probably getting bored but there's some action at the end of this chapter – I promise. Also can you vote in my poll if you haven't already done so, and of course, how could I forget? Just... REVIEW!**

I walk on, the cold gnawing into me. Hopefully me scaling the ice slope combined with a bit of action elsewhere in the arena should save my skin for a bit longer, though I have no idea what's going on in the arena at the moment. There hasn't been cannon fire since I killed Martha-Rose because of all the separation of the tributes around the arena. The Gamemakers will drive some of us together; I just hope it's not me. If they want to get me down from this mountain it's easy enough, but I may get killed in the process. If things get boring the Gamemakers may put a tribute into a perilous position, but they prefer to drive the tributes together because having your children killing each other sends a real message.

The temperature is well below freezing and I feel as if my very blood has frozen. Finally I reach a tree, the only one I've seen so far in this dratted mountain, and reach it, flopping onto it. I nestle down and am about to fall asleep when the hunger games symbol is projected in the sky. No-one's dead. It doesn't become as a shock to me since I would have heard the cannon fire. Other tributes would be cursing at their bad luck, but I'm happy that there was no bloodshed today. I don't like it how others die needlessly, and if they have just one more day alive then I'm happy.

I settle back down, though the cold is merciless and I keep on jerking back awake again in result of the freezing temperature. I curl up in a ball and wrap the blanket around me, shivering. My skin feels raw as the cold has slowly been eating away at it, and even without my goggles on the darkness still is eerie. Eventually I manage to settle into some sort of half sleep.

_Hate. The emotion pours all over me, filling my mouth and suffocating me. Why is there so much for such an innocent person? But I'm not innocent, far from it. The games have modelled me into a murderer. Even if I get out of this orb of pure hatred I will just fall into another, and another, and another. People truly despise me and the hate edges towards me, cold, calculating. I run but the hate is gaining on me, catching up, trying to get me. I have to stop eventually, eventually I tire. So I stay still and embrace this cold emotion, preparing for it to do its worse, and it does. My heart beat slows down and any hope of happiness is riddled with doubt. Then finally the hate engulfs me, leaving my poor soul to remain on the ground, writhing in agony._

This time I don't scream when I wake up, I don't pant or sweat, I don't even breathe. My body has seized up and I am now unable to even think clearly. I stay like that for almost a minute, by brain trapped inside my un-responding body. But then I breathe out and soon I'm back in control, being able to move my hands again. The feeling of being trapped inside my body was so awful, so terrifying that I refuse to let myself go back to sleep or even continue going up the mountain. Staying in this tree for one more day couldn't possibly harm me.

I lean back in the tree and drift into a light sleep, where no nightmares come. They don't haunt me unless I'm in a really deep sleep, one with no boundaries inside my head and can go anywhere, do anything. But luckily no nightmares come and I wake up to the sound of the whistling wind and the freezing early morning snow fluttering down on me. I shift out of the tree and jump to the ground, stretching my legs. That's a lot better. I sit on a low branch in the tree and rummage through my backpack and bring out another elastic band. I carefully re-braid my hair and then start a small fire, using some of the branches from the tree as wood. Then I put snow in my pot and leave it to melt, soon I will have some more drinkable water.

I eat a bit of snow to keep me satisfied, but it just makes my stomach growl so I fill it with a bit of the fish that I caught in the pool. Luckily the temperature here is preserving my food and I realize another reason why people wouldn't have come here – there is no food supply, or at least one that I'm aware of.

While the water purifies I set out to re-organise my bag. I put the lighter items at the top and the heavier at the bottom, then placing all essential items I might need to access quickly such as my first aid kit at the very top of the pack. They may crush the odd bit of food, but placing them there might very well safe my life. I check the snow and happily see that it's melted, leaving purified water. I pour it into my canteen and give off a weak smile. I'll go up the mountain tomorrow and reach the top. I spend the rest of the day re-braiding my golden hair repetitively and trying to make myself look presentable. After all, I am meant to be going for the 'sexy' approach.

Clara really hasn't been very active recently so I stretch out, distracting the viewers as my eyes dart around slowly for a camera. There! It's carefully concealed by the trunk of the tree, I wouldn't have noticed it if I hadn't been looking. I stare right at it, wink and blow a kiss. Then I take a sip of water and lick my lips seductively. Sure, I may be acting like a real cow, but I'm a cow who's going to be roping in the sponsors, so I push out all objections from my mind and settle down in the tree, ready to sleep. I'm determined I'm not going to get any nightmares tonight, but it doesn't work out and the nightmares return.

_The girl's body is limp and lifeless, all of the feeling sucked out of it. Another girl is standing above the body, knife in hand. I think it's me but then I recognise the shiny black hair and wicked smile. Vivian. She has murdered this poor girl, but I can't tell who. I have to get closer; I have to see who Vivian has killed. Is it Precious? Is it Suzie? It very well might be. Vivian stands up and I stare, transfixed at her face. She is grinning like a maniac, knife in hand. Is it an omen, what does it mean? But then I look at the dead girl's face and understand fully well what it means. The dead girl that Vivian has just stabbed is me._

I wake up terrified; yet somehow knowing it is morning despite the darkness and also knowing that I have missed the dead tribute's faces in the sky if there were any, which I very much doubt. The cannon sound would have woken me up but still I drop out of the tree and begin to pack up, not worrying about who had died or when. I'm still alive, that's all that matters. So I stride off up the mountain, ignoring my active brain's workings out. I'm alive, that is all there is to it, I tell myself but somehow I know it isn't true. It may be what the Gamemakers want us to believe but it certainly isn't what I know. Everyone are just pawns in the Gamemaker's grand scheme and in the Capitol's revenge.

I struggle up the mountain, both the darkness and the cold gripping me. I press on, knowing that if I don't something will happen to me, mountains or no. I finally get somewhere after several hours of shivering. The path I'm following has just crossed with another carved into the mountainside. The paths are hard to discover, but once you find one you won't lose it, it's too obvious one you're on it. I look both ways. Should I continue on my windy route or take a more direct route via the other path that seems to dip under the snow. It could go on for a few metres or a few miles, I really couldn't tell with both the darkness and the snow blinding me.

I eventually decide and take the path through the ice caves, the quicker I get at the top the quicker I'll feel safe. Though I doubt I'll ever feel safe in this ghastly arena. I turn off my path and go into the other, no longer following the silver ice road. The path dips under the snow and I step forward into the caves. Suddenly, before I can do anything, a massive ball of ice slams shut behind me, trapping me in.

I thump my fists on it desperately but I can't get out, the only when outwards is onwards so I creep forward, continuing along the path, it beckoning me mysteriously. Why had the Gamemakers done that to me? I was going to continue along the path anyway, there was no need to ensure it. Unless - unless there's something in here that would make me turn back. I glance around but am surrounded by icy walls, no mutant polar bears or anything to be frightened of. I look forwards, I look behind me, I look left, I look right, I look down and finally I look up. Dangling on top of me are giant icicles, shards of ice, ready to spear me. I carefully take a few steps forward and then one shoots down, where I was just seconds before. I take a gulp of air and run, icicles shooting down at me.


	30. Chapter 30  Icicles

**We got over 1,000 hits! I'm really pleased! Lets see if we can make 50 reviews too! =D (ambitious, I know)**

**I'm particulary pleased with the end of this chapter, but that doesn't mean you go and skip right to the end. Read it all through – don't spoil it for yourself!**

I run. That's all I can do, run. I dash forward, letting my feet propel me off. I dart and weave around, not really thinking of what I am doing; just letting my instincts carry me. If I stay still I die. I shoot of and an icicle crashes down, grazing my shoulder. I wince in pain, but it was only small and it missed, if it had been just a tiny bit to the left it would have killed me. I clutch my shoulder, feeling the wound sting. Once I get out of these ice caves I'll bandage it up. But how long are these? They could go on for hours, and I can't keep this up for hours.

I sprint, my shoulder throbbing with pain. I feel blood trickling down my chest but I don't look, I keep my eyes firmly pinned on the tunnel in front of me. Another icicle crashes down just millimetres away from me but I manage to jump out of its way in time. I keep my eyes fixed forward, and then I see it - light, a small patch that is slowly growing the more I move. I run faster, if that is even possible, and grind my teeth as I put all my effort into my running. I transfer the pain from my shoulder into my legs, making them work harder. The dabble of light is growing now and I extend my arm like I can touch it, though I quickly yank it back and swerve out of the way as a razor sharp icicle plunges down to get me.

The light is growing, but the icicles are falling faster, more frequently. I imagine the Gamemaker throwing switches, each one setting off another icicle, trying to snare me. The thought just makes me run harder and I puff, unable to stop and catch my breath. Then almost a whole wall of icicles slams behind me. Even if I wanted to go back to the beginning I couldn't now. But then I'm about to reach the light when I realize something is wrong. It's dark outside so why can I see light? There's only one explanation possible – it's a trap.

I swerve around and see a small hole, slowly shrinking in size. I glance around but there's no other way out. I draw my breath and dive in. The whole is shrinking, suffocating me, but I wriggle through and I pop out and just as I tug my foot through it closes, sealing my way back down. I sigh and stand outside the hole for a while, patiently observing my surroundings. There's some sort of frozen stream, lots of snow, ice and smoke coming from behind a wall of ice.

Smoke? That means a fire and that means... I catch my breath. Someone else is here, with me. Someone else has been in the mountain all this time, and while I've been climbing up here to escape people I've just stumbled right into one. Or rather, the Gamemakers have led me right into one, like a lamb to slaughter; except this time they want the lamb to fight back. I slowly creep up and poke my head around the wall of ice. What will I do? If it's Rip, Anvike or Precious I'm sure I'd kill them but I'm not sure about other people – I told myself I wouldn't kill. Maybe I could form an alliance, but then the Gamemakers would think I'm too soft. It depends who it is, though, so I look around the camp for a hint of whose camp this is.

There is tarpaulin suspended over piles of rocks to keep it up and some sort of mountain goat skin inside which the tribute must have been using as a blanket. There are no weapons, except maybe the two horns which are left at the end of the bed, just lying around and there's a fire left smouldering. Whomever's camp this is, they're either not nervous about a tribute finding them or they are quite smart and want to ward off any wild animals. Probably both.

I creep forward and then take a double take as a tribute stumbles from around the corner. They seem to be wearing some sort of helmet on their head so I can't see who it is, but it looks like a girl. I stand there, frozen, racking my brains for a female tribute. This tribute is too tall to be June and if it was Precious wouldn't she be with Anvike? I pause, thinking again. Who is this mysterious girl? From her build she looks about my age, only slightly older. A thought hits me, almost bowling me off my feet. What if Suzie hadn't died? What if it had been someone else and that was her? She certainly looked like Suzie. What should I do now? I let Suzie off once, but I can't do it again and anyway, would Suzie get me first? She's quite a fighter and is better than me, despite her training score.

My thoughts froze like the rest of the landscape as the girl look off her weird helmet revealing the back of her head. I would recognise that jet black hair anyway. Vivian. It all fitted in perfectly, how I haven't seen her from the beginning of the games and her high training score – I doubt she got given that helmet; it looks like she's made it. I almost forgot about her, only pondering about different ways to kill her, but not where she was or what she was doing.

Now it's come down to it I know I have to kill Vivian, now. I clench my palms together but they're just sweaty and I can feel my legs shaking. I was going to enjoy this, but now I'm just filled with doubt. I'm about to step back and leave, run away from the situation, when I have an image of my mother in my mind, just as I had found her, in a pool of her blood with a knife in her chest. I feel madness fill up inside me and my need for revenge blanks out any other emotions and I charge at Vivian, knife raised.

She is totally unprepared for me. I lunge at her and send her flying to the ground. She just stares up at me in shock, like she never expected me to be here. Well, I doubt she expected anyone to be here. I pin her down so her hands are crushed behind her back and I'm on top of her chest, my legs restricting hers. She seems to be struggling for breath so I press down harder, making her wince. Good, that feels satisfactory.

"Any last words?" I tease, I just want to get it out of the way and kill her, but I know I have to play around a bit, make Panem enjoy the show. It makes me sick, and the panic in her eyes tugs at my heartstrings. I bat it away out of my thoughts and glare at the girl who killed my mother.

"I don't deserve to die." Vivian whimpers, her face pleading for release. I just snicker. She deserves to die more than everyone else in this arena, unlike the rest she came into this arena a murderer.

"How very original," I scoff, my voice laced with sarcasm, "Couldn't you be a little more imaginative for the cameras; people have a show to watch." I block out part of me screaming to release her, not to waste another innocent life. _She's not innocent. _I remind myself, she killed my mother.

"Don't kill me, Kara." Vivian pleads. Oof! That was a double guilt trick there. First of all she mentioned the fact I was going to kill her, which all soon to be killers like to ignore and second of all, she called me by my name, making it feel personal. It was personal, we used to be friends. _Used to be_.

"Give me one reason why I shouldn't kill you." I say to her, yes, I will kill her.

"Because, because..." Vivian stammers.

I hold my knife up to her throat and trace across it, drawing a little blood and making Vivian wince.

"Go on." I tease, finding that a part of me enjoys this so much.

"Because I'm your step-sister!"

**Ha ha ha! I bet you didn't seem that one coming did you? I've been planning this little surprise for the whole story and now I've written with it I'm rather pleased with it. Complications will be resolved throughout later chapters, but bring up any criticisms or compliments now - Out with them. ANYONE can review, even if you don't have a fanfic account, and if you've read this far then I think I can safely say you'll have SOMETHING you want to voice about the whole thing – so go on, click that button, yes, that one, REVIEW NOW! Oh – and that's just the start of many plot twists to come! I'd have told you it was no ordinary games for Kara Jaymond, but you wouldn't have believed me!**

**Oh, I'm going a few for a few days so I won't be able to update. I'll leave you in suspense! Please please please review because I want you to comment about how this could have happened. All is explained in the next chapter and I MIGHT release a little look into it via 'the realisation of hunger', so keep your eyes peeled (I hate that phrase) and review like you've never reviewed before! (I'm aiming for 50) =D**

**Oh, and look at 'The realisation of Hunger' while I'm gone. So far it has one-shots about a Gamemaker, Martha-Rose, Dral, Suzie, the boy from district 12, June, Anvike and even Kara's mother! I need requests (even though 'tmousey21' and 'let the foxx fly' have overloaded me with tham), so look at it and get reading, reviewing and requesting - I bet you have quite a few questions to ask so PM me if you want! =D**

**Also, as 'let the foxx fly' has _kindly_ pointed out to me, step-sisters means that their parents got married, had a child, got divorced married again and had another child (if that makes sense). In 'the realisation of hunger' and the next chapter it explains that Kara/Vivian's mother never got married to Vivian's father because he already had a wife so she married Kara's father instead. All will be explained but apparently we have to call them 'half sisters' not 'step sisters'. It's just picky! You get the jist anyway... =D Thanks FOXX for pointing that out! =D**

**While I'm away you might want to look out for 'The 61st Victor' By 'Two Telescope Eyes' and 'To be a fake' by my most common reviewer, 'let the foxx fly'! The 61st Victor is finished and To be a fake has only just started, and I have enjoyed them both. So if you feel like it look at them because they're very good! 61st has 11 chapters and is finished - but the chapters are longer than mine. To be fake has only got 1 chapter so far but is very very intriguing! Either way, have a nice time and REVIEW!**


	31. Chapter 31  Our Mother

**I'm back and I'm bad! =D heh heh heh! I didn't get my 50 reviews - I only got 42, but still, it's an improvement. I'll tell you when I get 50! Keep up the reviewing, I'm loving it. Less song, check. Ah weel, I've written chapter 36 already and I haven't got a song up to or in there! =D**

**All is explained in this chapter. If you don't understand or have any queries or questions, review, and if you don't review anyway because I love reviews, and nice ones make my day!**

My mouth opens like a gaping hole and I retreat in shock, letting Vivian stand up, but she shows no signs of diving at me, even when I drop my knife on the floor. The only expression I see in her eyes is pity. How could this be? How could Vivian be related to me, let alone be my step-sister? This isn't possible. This can't be happening to me, I must be hallucinating. It must be some sort of evil trick. It can't be true, it mustn't be true.

"No." I croak desperately, stumbling back. I feel faint and everything around me has started to spin, I clutch the pile of rocks Vivian had used to suspend the tarpaulin on but still I feel queasy. Vivian looks at me with a mix of sympathy and regret.

"I'm sorry. I wanted to tell you earlier, but -" Vivian says, her voice slowly getting quieter and quieter until it becomes like the whistling of the wind or an annoying hum of an insect. Everything around me is the wrong colour and is rippling like water does when you drop a stone in it. I start to fall, and command by leg to steady myself but it doesn't listen, it won't listen. Everything goes a blood red and then it switches to black as I collapse, unconscious before I hit the ground.

_I wake up and stare at Vivian. Something is odd about her; something is odd about all of this. She's pressing me down, like I did to her, crushing my breathing and laughing, a cold cruel laugh. I try to speak but only let out a groan, by body shaking in fear of death. I finally hear my voice, virtually silent and croaking like a frog on its death bed, but there is my voice none the less._

"_No." I rasp weakly, staring at Vivian, her eyes deep voids of black. She just laughs again, and when all hope is lost the knife plunges down at my heart and out comes by blood, but it is black too and soon it pours all over me and then I'm dead, my breathing gone completely._

Slowly I open eyes and see a figure leaning over me, hand on my forehead, checking my temperature. They seem to have noticed I have woken up so the figure backs up, giving me some space.

"Dral?" I ask, hopefully, even though I know deep down it isn't him. The figure slinks towards me and bends down. They are holding a pair of glasses in their hands and they slip them onto me. My vision returns in a peculiar green light and I look at the figure above me. Vivian! I jump up and back off, and then all the memories of what must have been last night flood back to me. I collapse and a heap on the floor, all the energy lost and I look around me. Vivian seems to have raided my bag because the camp is looking a lot better than it was before. I'm under the tarpaulin and still have the goat skin as a blanket, but Vivian seems to have somehow attached it to my blanket so now it's lined with the soft material making it both warm and comfortable.

The sides of the tarpaulin have been built up by stone, making a small yet sturdy hut feature. I see one of Dral's rabbit on Vivian's fire and both of my jackets and my other night vision goggles are on Vivian. I guess I'm upset but I don't let it show, it looks like Vivian has decided about what's going to happen without me. It looks like we're in an alliance. I stare up at her morbidly, all my energy drained. Is what she said true? I desperately want to believe it isn't but somehow I know differently.

Why else would my father let a family stay under our roof, employ Vivian and let her off when my mother was murdered? Why else was Vivian so keen for my father's death but wept for days after my mother died? She had to be my step-sister, and the thought frightened me deeply. Vivian, the girl who tried to have my father dead, my step-sister. Vivian the girl whom I have taunted and teased since my mother's death, my step-sister. Vivian, the girl who has been my maid and despises the ground I walk on, my step-sister.

"How?" I ask simply, not feeling in the mood to talk more than necessary. How is she my step-sister?

"My mother is your mother." Vivian says bluntly, though I can see that her divulging this information is hard enough for her. "She knew your father and she knew that he was courting her, but she had eyes for another man, a servant in her household, my father."

I look at Vivian and know she is telling the truth and I can see that once she has started she doesn't want to stop, a massive burden being lifted off her chest. She must have known this all along, what a hard secret this must have been to keep.

"Our mother, she found out she was pregnant, so quickly consented to marrying your father so she wouldn't bring shame on her family name. Then, soon after the wedding she told your father that she was pregnant, but she didn't tell him the whole truth. She didn't tell him that the father wasn't him, as he thought, but a servant in her household. So they continued along through the pregnancy, our mother playing the happy family charade. Afterwards she planned to run away with my father into the forest so they could be together. But something went terribly wrong. She fell in love with your father, and then decided she wanted to stay."

Vivian draws a breath and I can see tears in her eyes. How easily swayed she is by this all. But I am too quick to scorn her for soon I feel tears trickling down my face too. I quickly brush them away to hide them, but it's too late. Vivian has seen them, along with the whole of Panem too. I freeze; this will bring scorn to my family name for it isn't just me that is hearing this tale, but the whole of Panem too. I realize, as my father was oblivious to the whole thing, he will be pitied, but I have to win these games to keep our family name intact. The whole of Panem will be going crazy with this revelation about our family. Whatever will happen, we'll go down in hunger games history with this story. The Gamemakers will be overjoyed. Undiscovered step-sisters and a deep romantic story to go with it, they'll be having a field day. I can imagine them discussing it, bringing my father in and members of the household.

"She told your father of the situation. First, he grew angry and spoke of a divorce, but soon he realized that our mother had grown to love him instead of her first reason to marry him, so they decided they would go through with the child and raise her as one of their own." Vivian pauses and looks into my eyes, "If things had went to plan I would be just like you, Kara. I'd be your elder sister."

I shiver at the prospect. Vivian is only a year older than me, but I've always held the power. If I'd had an older sister then I'd have been the second best, always looked upon after her.

"What happened?" I whisper, confused.

"The night I was born everyone was rejoicing. I was left with a nanny to look after me. That night when your father got back from the celebrations he went into the room and found the nanny knocked unconscious on the floor and me gone."

I stare at Vivian open-eyed, now I remember my mother once telling me that I had an older sister, but she had died the same night she was born.

"They said you died." I stammer, my face turning a ghostly white. Vivian just smiled.

"Maybe it would have been better that way. I moved in with my father's family. His wife despised me and so did my elder siblings. The only person who liked me was my father, but he turned onto drink and soon all his love was replaced by hollow promises following beatings." Vivian says; her voice laced with hatred. It sounds like revenge wasn't the reason that she let those men in. It may hurt, but I had to find out the truth.

"Why? Why let the men in?" I ask, knowing it will probably hurt Vivian more than me. I see her flinch. We both know we can't go into too much detail because it would end up in both Vivian and my father getting killed. Vivian for letting them in, my father for not reporting the incident.

"They were old friends of my fathers; they approached me, talked about revenge, honouring my dad. I was stupid, tempted. I listened to them foolishly, thought it would bring justice back and I could become part of the family."

I nodded. If my father had died I'm sure my mother would have adopted Vivian or something, made her my sister. If my father had died, that is, but instead it was my mother that took the lethal blow. I know Panem will be watching our every word now, intrigued by who these men were. I had to think of something to cover it up, and fast.

"They were scary, they got all rowdy and started breaking things, I knew they weren't invited to the party." I say, subtly winking at Vivian. Luckily Panem won't be able to see because of these glasses, but if you're close enough you can see the person's eyes. Now all Panem will think is that Vivian let some gatecrashers into a party, not some murderers into our house.

Suddenly Vivian breaks down on me and starts crying hysterically. I feel tears streaming down my cheeks too and I hug her and we stay there, arms entwined, clutching onto each other to stop from falling into the everlasting pit of despair. Yes, that's us. Me and my sister.

**REVIEW! 'The Realisation of Hunger' explains it a bit as well through Marie Eyre's (Kara + Viv's mum) view, just over 500 words, but it clears it up! =D**


	32. Chapter 32  Not a Sausage

**I know this is basically just talking but I wanted to clear everything up before I move onto the real action. It's the final eight and yes, at least one person will die in the next chapter (if I don't change my mind and use it as ANOTHER filler)! Oh, and... REVIEW! **

No images show in the night tonight, and Vivian told me none showed last night either. Even with our revelation the Gamemakers will be getting bored. They'll probably leave us alone for a bit and then make our life impossible. Now I'm not sure if I wanted Vivian to tell me. The astounding news that I had a step-sister just hit hard when I realized that only one of us can go home, if any of us do. Only one of us can live.

It was Suzie that died after all, and I realize that it all was in vain, our struggle to let Suzie live without causing her death when we did. No doubt Anvike and Precious turned up and weren't very pleased at all. The careers have split early and now there are only four of the original seven. It certainly shows that whatever happens, the other tributes have a chance. There are four of us that aren't careers, Vivian, June, the boy from district eleven, Alvin, and Rip. Then there are us four careers, Dral, Anvike, Precious and me. I can't help but wondering who will win. No doubt district eight will be ecstatic at the moment, we virtually never get any tributes into the final eight and now we have two! I smile despite all me worries and go and join Vivian – no, sister – with the cooking.

Actually the hare that was cooking yesterday wasn't mine, it was Vivian's. Although we are almost at the top of the mountain there is life, however distant it may seem. The pools, although iced over, contain fish underneath and there are rabbit holes littered all over the place containing white rabbits which blend into the snow. There's just meat, but I brought crackers and bread as well as the roots and berries Dral foraged while we were in the forest together.

I've been dreading talking to Vivian about the games so far and the four people I've killed, but I desperately want to know what she's been doing, even if it means telling her that I'm a murderer. I wonder if Vivian is. She doesn't act like it, but she might be. I don't know where she thinks I got the extra jumper and goggles from; maybe she thought I backstabbed my ally. No, I wouldn't do that. Then I freeze. I did, though. Dral and I backstabbed the careers, killing Cecil and Daphne in the process and ensuring Suzie's death.

I shuffle towards Vivian awkwardly. This is going to be harder than I thought. She looks up from making me one of those weird snow helmets using some type of plastic sheet she picked up at the Cornucopia, a bit of goat's skin and a quite a lot of that goat's horn. She was using a sharp stone to whittle it down before, but now I've leant her one of my two remaining knives so it is a lot easier. I pause and then sit next to her on the freezing rock. I see her glance at me through the goggles and I smile. She smiles too and I shuffle up to her. Just to think just a bit earlier than this yesterday I was imagining of delicious ways to kill her and even trying some.

"What happened? In the arena, I mean?" I ask; looking at Vivian regretfully and slightly frightened like she might explode, but she just twitches her mouth in my direction.

"Oh, I grabbed a rucksack and ran straight over here; I planned to go somewhere where I wouldn't bump into anybody." She stops and glances at my direction and I smile innocently. Even if I despised her just a day ago, now it feels like she's my elder sister and a real part of the family. I guess I got lonely and wanted someone real to confide in, especially after my mother's death.

"Did you have any trouble?" I ask, trying to avoid Vivian's eye. I still feel guilty about wanting to kill her, and after finding out she's my sister I feel even guiltier. Some siblings may fight, but not to the death

"I came across a weird goat mutt up here, but it is scared of fire so we're alright. What about you?" Vivian asks; so now I know where the horns and goat skin came from. I've been dreading this moment, but now I realize I have to be open and tell her what I've done. I inhale deeply and then speak slowly and purposefully.

"In the bloodbath I accidently knifed the boy from district twelve and killed the boy from seven to save Dral." I start, averting my eyes from her face and hurrying through what had happened. The sooner I finished the better. "We, the careers I mean, then decided to split up to hunt for tributes. I found one, June, the little girl. I let her go before the others could find out. The next morning Dral woke me up and we decided to leave the career's camp, forcing the careers to split early. We ensured that Suzie would leave and then he handled Cecil while I took out Daphne. We then left and made a camp, but I could sense that the Gamemakers were going to do something bad so I left for the mountain. On the way the girl from district six, Martha-Rose Fall, tried to kill me so I dropped her into a crevasse.

"Then I got to the bottom of the mountain, but I fell asleep in a tree with trackerjackers so I escaped from them by jumping in a snow drift. Then I scaled a vertical ice wall and made my way up here. I got caught in the ice caves though, which was one big Gamemaker trap. Giant icicle shards flew down everywhere, and you had to run and run. But I got out only with a slight scratch and then I got here, I saw the smoke. You know the rest." I sigh and I see Vivian's mouth gaping at me. She senses I'm upset so closes her mouth and starts to think vividly. Soon 'm lost in my thoughts too. Now I've said everything I've done I feel a lot better like a massive burden has lifted off my chest. Now I guess she knows what I'm like, I wonder what she'll say.

"Did Lumina and Hercules give you anything?" Vivian asks, cutting me out of my train of thought and changing the subject abruptly. It looks like she's as haunted as what I've done as I am.

"They just gave me a rope and some climbing boots. What about you?" I ask, genuinely wondering what Vivian got, but she just sighs.

"Not a sausage." Huffs Vivian, clearly more than a bit miffed. Evidently she has had some sponsors, just still Hercules and Lumina decided not to give her anything. But as in answer to Vivian's whining something falls on her lap – a silver parachute.

"It looks like they listened!" Chuckles Vivian and turns the parachute in her hands, "In fact, I could make something interesting out of this material."

"Open it!" I demand gleefully like a little child at Christmas, eager to see what they've given her. Vivian obliges and slowly opens the box, as if taunting me. I roll my eyes and she yanks open the box. At the sight of what's inside her face falls dramatically. It looks like they didn't give her anything very good.

"What is it?" I whisper, afraid she'll snap at me, but she just looks upset, like my father would recently. She won't tell me so I yank the box out of her lap and look inside.

A sausage.


	33. Chapter 33  Boys

**Yes, it's short. No, it's not particularly sweet! This is Chapter 33 and is... another filler! Though it does have some action in it at the end and someone does die... =D Please review and don't forget to look at 'The Revealed Hunger' because it has lots of cool One-shots from Gnawing Hunger which I may develop into a proper story if you want, and I do take requests from you. So yes, check it out. We have death scenes, drama, hurt, comfort, romance and of course... lots of 'Gnawing Hunger' moments never seen before! All requested by you (well, some of them anyway) and all through the eyes of different characters. So far I've written different ones for Martha-Rose, Dral, Suzie, the boy from District 12 and Kara's mother – just to name a few! So review Gnawing hunger and then check out the one-shots and review them too, maybe putting in a request along with time! Eek! I better let you read on with the story, although that cliff-hanger I left you with was rubbish. This one is a lot better!**

I finish laughing about an hour later. Eventually Vivian saw the funny side and giggled a bit too, but not after she had cooked the sausage. We both bit into it. It was low quality filler inside the sausage that you would probably find on one of the district's tables rather than in the Capitol but it's the kind of food I have at home for special occasions. At least Lumina and Hercules didn't spend Vivian's sponsor money on a practical joke. I wonder who did it. It was probably Hercules; it was the kind of thing he would do.

Suddenly it starts to snow. Not a slightly tickly snow but a full blown out blizzard snow. This isn't natural. This is the Gamemakers trying to do something – but what? The snow isn't directed at us because it's raining in the rest of the arena. Then I realize – they're trying to cause a flood. Vivian seems to have picked up on that too.

"Go inside the shelter – now!" She commands, ushering me in.

Soon after she joins me with our kit and the remnants of the sausage. Everything outside will be buried in the snow tomorrow so we have to keep all of our possessions safe. I hear a clap of thunder in the valley and suddenly I think of Dral. I left him in the swamp. He may be on a slight hill but it will still fill up, the Gamemakers will ensure that. I know that the Gamemakers will be targeting more than one person or they'd have sent mutts on them. No, the Gamemakers must be targeting at least two people with a death sentence, and I know Vivian and I aren't in the position that we'd easily die because of the snow. It has to be someone else.

I'm frightened. This blizzard cam up without any warning and I know there will be a flash flood back where I was just a few days ago, drowning whoever is down there. I know someone's who is almost definitely down there, Dral.

I may we worried but I'm too tired. I know I have to stay up, but I still haven't got over the shock of Vivian being my sister and this flood has just taken a turn for the worse, and I'm sleepy, oh, so sleepy. One quick nap couldn't do any harm...

A cannon sounds and I jerk awake, looking for Vivian. She's drifted off too, but I can see her groggily waking up. We both look at each other.

"Someone's dead." Vivian helpfully points out. I step outside to see if I can find a hovercraft anywhere, by sound or sight, but all I can see is white and all I can hear is the rushing of the snow, battering everyone out of my senses. I am forced to retreat back into the shelter by the ongoing current of snow, forcefully shoving me back in.

I sit down. Who died? Then I freeze along with the rest of the mountain, Dral. It had to be, who else was down there? I remind myself that there must have been at least two people there for the Gamemakers to bother with. But still I'm worried, and even petrified. I've tried desperately to ignore Dral and feel indifferent towards him, but now he might be gone I feel worry explode around me. Dral might be dead now, and I didn't even say goodbye. I just left him with a lipstick mark and the half the kit. I didn't even leave him a blanket. Maybe I should have left that, I could have done without. But no, instead I just abandoned him and now I'm sure he's dead. I start shaking and Vivian notices.

"You like him, didn't you Kara?" Vivian says sympathetically as she realizes what is making me upset, "You liked Dral."

I nod and collapse onto Vivian in a stream of tears. She seems shocked and pats my back reassuringly.

"I had a boyfriend once, you know." Consoles Vivian. I sit up straight and wipe the tears away from my eyes. Vivian had a boyfriend once? That's news to me; I didn't imagine Vivian having anything of a social life, let alone a boyfriend.

"What happened?" I ask, curiosity getting the better of my sorrow.

"I liked him, he asked me out. We went out and it was really fun, and then we became known as a regular couple. But then one day he, Harley I mean, well, Harley wasn't getting enough food on the table as it was, and then his mother has another child and they had to drop someone out of the family so they all wouldn't starve, and they couldn't do it to a baby. Maybe the person could live off the streets, so to speak, and Harley was the only one without a job. He knew he was the most useless so he volunteered, so he moved into the orphanage where he slowly starved." Vivian closes her eyes solemnly. I place my hand on her shoulder.

"Don't worry, it wasn't your fault." I say, but her eyes just grow redder and her lips pout more.

"It was though! If he has spent less time with me and got a job then it would have been another of his siblings and then he wouldn't be dead!" Vivian sobs, head in hands.

"Don't blame yourself for doing only nice things to other people. People have to die anyway, and it's better if we put nice things into their life, even if we earlier their death." I say, feeling as if I'm more dictating than consoling, "Is it better to have a shorter happy life or a longer, unhappier one?" I say, and Vivian looks up, as if contemplating this. She evidently isn't healed but I can tell she feels a lot better.

"You're meant to be the older sister!" I scoff, raising a smile on Vivian's lips. Maybe it's better we're together after all.

Through the see through tarpaulin there is the hunger games logo. I nudge Vivian and we both stare at the sky, elated. For instead of Dral's face is Alvin's, the boy from district eleven. This means that Dral is still alive. I run outside happily and go near the fire, ready to stoke it. I kick both of our backpacks out of the way and prod the fire, bringing it crackling and back to life. Vivian remains in the hut. I stare up to the top of the mountain peacefully.

Then suddenly the ground jerks and I'm thrown to the side like a rag doll. Up at the top of the mountain snow begins to tumble, first little pieces and then bigger ones join it along with giant shards of ice and rocks the size of my head. I've never seen one of these before or experienced it but I know what it is without doubt.

"Vivian! Grab the blanket!" Vivian pokes her head out at my calling, "It's an avalanche!"

I grab both our rucksacks up and I put the helmet Vivian made for me on my head and start to run, Vivian directly behind me with the blanket and her helmet which she hastily shoves on her head. We're going to need every bit of help we can muster, because we're running from an avalanche.

**Rubbish chapter title, I know, but if you can think of a better one tell me and I'll change it if I like it. Same applies to all the chapters! =D**

**I'm back to the terrible daily grind that school brings so if you wonder why I'm not updating as quickly in the future then that's the reason - school. But I should be fine and keep it up quickly, even if I might have to stop temperarily for exams and productions and all that stuff! **

***42***

**...**

**Yes, that's the ultimate answer to the ultimate question. It's the answer to life, the universe and everything! =D All non-hitchikkers ignore this, i just needed to give a shout out! =D**


	34. Chapter 34  Avalanche

**These chapters are getting shorter and shorter, but I've spent a lot of time doing these. Yes, something happens in this chapter (finally) and hopefully within the next couple of chapters there will be some nice juicy deaths. Until then review and don't forget to look out for 'The Realisation of Hunger' which you can access from my profile and request any scenes you REALLY want to be seen through another person's eyes or you know which happened and you want to see, such as other tribute's death scenes which Kara wasn't at because, even though she is the star of this story, some things do happen which aren't related to her and which she doesn't see. Well, enjoy! =D**

We speed down the mountain, ignoring the freezing cold snow pressing against our legs and the ice biting into our skin. This isn't a normal avalanche, no, it's a Gamemaker trap. It doesn't act naturally like a normal avalanche would. Everything is tumbling down slowly, defying all laws of gravity. Slow enough to let us have a chance of escaping, but not slow enough to ensure it isn't nipping at our heels. We plummet down the mountainside, our legs burning and our chests heaving. The avalanche is abnormal, but even though it has slowed down to give us a chance, it's still impossible.

Vivian tugs me under an overhanging rock to escape a giant shard of ice and then we dash off again, all feelings of consciousness gone. For hours we run, as if in a trance. I can't feel my body but I know if I stop for just one second pain will embrace me all over so I keep up the running. Vivian seems the same, the way she keeps her eyes firmly fixed on the bottom of the mountain, determined, unstoppable. We race on; my heart beat so fast it feels like an electric drill, forever vibrating.

We both vault over a giant snowball cascading down from behind us and swerve as we almost run into a snow drift, both of which would have ended us for sure. I look at Vivian and for one second we link eyes and Vivian manages to let off a small reassuring smile, one of hope and joy. But I can't relish the moment for I am speeding down the mountain, haring into the distance as fast as I could go. It took me three days to reach close to the peak of the mountain and now it's taking me a day to come down.

We don't stop to eat, drink or talk. We just run, aware of the oncoming peril behind us, advancing on us slowly. It's gaining on us so I grab Vivian's hand and tug her along, my body no longer feeling like it is my own. I feel dizzy and sick and everything is swirling around me but together Vivian and I manage to direct ourselves towards the base of the mountain, back down after I spent so long trying desperately to get up here, and now I am frantically hurrying back down.

Vivian and I finally make it, crunching snow slowly changing into hard rock underneath our feet, the ice cold whip of the air slowly mellowing into a sort of fresh breeze and the snow, slowly fluttering down on us became rain, tapping on our heads. We keep running though, until I glance behind us and halt to a stop. The avalanche is no more, it has gone, and we are both thankful for it. We're still alive, we're still intact. A smile reaches my face and I see Vivian's impenetrable face support a slight twitch of the mouth to show her pleasure of life. We just outran an avalanche!

Before I know it I charge at Vivian and hug her. She stands there awkwardly, looking around us as if another tribute was watching, but I don't let go. Finally, after a few minutes Vivian prises me off her and I reluctantly stand up. Then the pain hits me. Oh, how the pain hits me. I collapse on the floor and as Vivian comes to see what's the matter she does too. My whole skin is on fire, my muscle has deteriorated and I just lie down in the dirt, even breathing bringing tears to my eyes.

I wouldn't call myself an especially unfit person, but I've never run solidly for half an hour, let alone a full day. Vivian and I just lie on her ground, clutching our chests and trying to breathe, and that's how June finds us. The small twelve year-old from district seven slowly creeps forward towards us, knife held aloft. I look at her in surprise; I thought she wasn't like that, I thought she didn't do that kind of thing. I exhale out in surprise as reality hits me. I'm going to be killed by a twelve year-old.

June creeps up towards Vivian, knife in hand, but then pauses as if contemplating something. She glances over in my direction and sees me lying on the floor. All she has to do is stab me; all she has to do is stab us. Why isn't she killing us? Maybe she's like me, maybe she can't kill people, and I did help her out earlier. Maybe...

There are enough maybe's in my mind to fill a whole planet, but none of them will do me any good. I have to hear it from her mouth, and even if I feel like I am being eaten alive by ants at this very moment I need to ask her. I need to ask her what's going to happen. I open my mouth and I strain my vocal chords, it's now or never.

"Whaa ooh doodaa uhhhh." I manage to mutter, but June just gives me a weird look. But have to talk to her, but my consciousness is failing. I try again, "What you do to us." I stutter, there, I said it. It looks like Vivian's already blacked out because of the pain and I can feel my lips cracked and dry.

"Water." I croak. June nods silently and I pause. I've actually never heard her talk. She must have spoken in the interviews, but I don't remember and it puzzles me. Why would June choose not to talk? Either she's very quiet or she has something to hide, it's standard behaviour for someone who's worried or scared to stop talking as well, so it could be either of those things or a mixture of both. She picks up my canteen of water and slowly drips it into my mouth. The cool, refreshing liquid drips into my mouth and I sigh. Water never tasted so good. To think on the day of the bloodbath I couldn't possibly have drunk another drop. But June won't let me have more, and even though I know it is right I still resent her for it slightly because I am really thirsty.

Eventually June revives Vivian and me. We both stand up shakily and look at each other. Things are looking up and June may have just saved our life. Without having to discuss anything we both nod in agreement.

"Well then it looks we have another member of our alliance." Vivian speaks for both of us and we both stare at little June, wondering what she'll do for us; bring our uprising or our downfall.

**Sorry for the confusion = June is from district SEVEN - excuse the typo, I was probably thinking about Kara and Vivian then. Thanks to the person who pointed it out, it's fixed now! =D**


	35. Chapter 35  One Night Only

**Yes, it's yet another filler! But the action will start again next chapter, hopefully. You're probably getting bored but that's your fault. Check out 'The realisation of hunger' and give me some requests and reviews, but don't neglect this because this poor story needs reviews too! Can I just say a big thank you to all who have reviewed, 'let the foxx fly' and 'tmousey21' to name a few. You've all been REALLY helpful and I'd LOVE it if I had EVEN MORE reviews! Mwahahahahahahahahahahahahaha!**

June takes us to her camp. It's pretty basic, a small hollow in the ground with the blanket I gave her carefully placed there alongside a sleeping bag. This small camp was carefully hidden behind some bushes, but she could have chosen to camp in the trees, providing better cover for her. I mention this but she just shakes her head vigorously, as if the very idea was enough to kill anyone. It looks like I'm not the only tribute here who's afraid of heights.

We try to get June to talk but she won't, she claims she can but she still refuses, evidently with a reason but she won't give it away, well, she probably would but she isn't speaking. She's as quiet as an Avox.

Vivian and I add our items we managed to quickly snatch from our camp before we had to flee. I look at June with interest, puzzled.

"Have you encountered anyone?" I ask, wondering how she's been, "Since you met me, I mean?" June nods solemnly. I pause, what happened? But I can't say that, it's not a yes or no answer.

"Did you kill them?" Vivian asks bluntly, I'm shocked. I didn't want to say that. I remember how hard it was for me to tell my step-sister that I am a murderer, let alone two complete strangers. But June just shakes her head and I let out a sigh of relief. I don't know who it is or what happened, but I know that June's not a murderer, like me. That would damage her poor little heart beyond repair; I know what it did to me.

We sit around the camp and even light a small fire. We need the heat and if anyone sees it we should be able to handle them. There are three of us after all and the only other alliance I'm aware of is between Anvike and Precious and I don't even know if it's still happening, they could have broken up by now. But if that had happened I'm sure I would have heard a cannon fire as at least one of them died. No, they're clever enough to know that they should stay together for a while longer. We might be in the last seven tributes but there are still several others to count, which Vivian seems to be doing.

"There's us three, then there's Anvike and Precious, Dral and someone else." She says, pondering the thought.

"Rip." I say simply, "Rip Knead, district nine. No-one's seen him; no-one's heard of him. Nothing is known about him or his whereabouts since the bloodbath, he didn't even kill anyone there. He just scarpered off, which came as a surprise to us all due to his size. We thought he would have given us a bit of trouble."

I stop speaking when I notice both June and Vivian staring at my intently.

"What?" I ask, surprised.

"Kara, you know the most out of all of us. I didn't realize it until now, we didn't know. You've been in the careers. You know what they think about every tribute, and most importantly you know how to stop them." Vivian says. I check her eyes but she's talking seriously. I close my eyes with concentration. I have to explain about all the tributes.

"Anvike – he's ruthless and won't stop at anything. Death means nothing to him, or if it means something it means pleasure because I saw him repetitively stabbing the girl from district three, relishing every moment. Yes, he likes death. Then there's Precious. She's like Anvike's minion. She's shallow and has no feelings of her own. Maybe she likes Anvike, maybe not; I don't know why she follows him. All I know she's as deadly as she is pretty.

"OK, now onto Dral, he tries to get on with people and doesn't like death or killing, but he'll do it if necessary. Like me. Also he can climb trees and is a great hunter – gatherer as well as being great with a sword. Then there's Rip. The careers were shocked to see that he didn't fight in the Bloodbath, but that's all I know about him, I know as much as you two. June, the careers basically forgot you exist, which is a good thing, same with you, Vivian. Except maybe a bit more alert about your presence because of your eight in training. They asked me about you a couple of times but I told them that the eight was evidently a fluke and that you were useless and nothing to worry about."

"Thanks Kara!" Says Vivian sarcastically, evidently put off.

"Would you have preferred it if I had told them that you were a real threat?" I ask, and Vivian seems to turn it over in her mind.

"OK, thanks Kara." Vivian says again, no sarcasm in her voice this time.

"Right, well I think we're either going to be driven to tributes or tributes are going to be driven to us, so maybe it's better if we go of our own accord. I say we go tomorrow." I say softly. June nods quietly.

We pack up most of our things, even though we just settled into this camp her we still need to be ready to go for the morning. June is the only one without a backpack, she's been keeping everything in the sleeping bag she has. I don't know where she got it from, but I doubt she has any sponsors so I guess it was from that skirmish with Suzie. Vivian and I divide June's stuff between us and we stretch up, relaxing. It's time to go to bed, tomorrow we go tribute hunting again, but this time with a twist. This time the tributes will be hunting for us too.

We settle down to sleep in the small hollow, our necks cramped and squished together, but with June's sleeping bag and blanket along with our goat skin blanket we get to sleep quite comfortably for once, but the nightmares which I had driven away come back again, and this time they're worse than they used to be.

_Six tributes stand above me; I lie on the floor, paralysed, unable to move. They all hold a dagger and support an evil grin on their face, happy, contented. Just like the smile Martha-Rose Fall gave me when she died. First Dral plunges a dagger into me, then Rip, then June followed by Precious and Anvike. Then finally Vivian stands above me, a scowl mixing with the smile making her look both deadly and vicious._

"_You don't buy all those lies I fed you about us being step-sisters?" Vivian coos in the voice of Debbie and plunges her dagger down at my heart, finishing me off._

I wake up and glance around me madly. June is scowling at me angrily and then I notice why, my foot is in her face. I quickly stumble up and mutter a quick apology and then dash off to Vivian who is fixing breakfast in a pot. What tales that pot would tell if it could speak, tales of being placed in the Cornucopia, splattered in blood from a dead tribute, used to serve for the Careers and then fished away by Dral in desperation and hope that I'd join him. Then I stole it from him and carried it up a mountain to suffer Vivian's cooking, just to be dragged back down into the woods and to use to cook for three.

I pause. Unless all the others have teamed up, which I very much doubt, we are in the majority here, we are the force to be reckoned with. I look around the camp at us; the girl who got a ten in her training score and her newly revealed step-sister along with the little girl from district seven who refuses to speak. What a group we make, three lonely girls wanting to get back home. But only one of us can live, if any of us do.

Vivian passes us a weird concoction she's brewed and I taste it. It's nutty and has a wholesome flavour. It really is quite delicious. I slurp up every last droplet. It reminds me of the food I used to have at home when I realize it is the food I had at home. It was cooked by the same person probably. Vivian helps out with cook sometimes, she once set fire to the kitchen and was banned to go anywhere near there for a whole year, but afterwards she was back with a spring in her step. Vivian does like cooking, she really does.

We finish off all the stew and pack the final things and then brush ourselves down and hoist the backpacks onto our backs. We're now ready to go and get some tributes and make sure that one of us can win this death game.

**I LOVE the next chapter, it's officially my favourite, it even beats schapter 30! I've only written up to chapter 37 so after a couple of days everything might be going a bit slower! But don't worry, I will not stop until I've written it all (which could take a while seeing as I have exams in a few weeks)=D**


	36. Chapter 36  Back to the Cornucopia

**We got 50 reviews! Whoo! Thanks 'Silently I Speak' for being my 50th reviewer. I WOULD dedicate this chapter to you, but it's my favourite, so that's not happening! =D**

**Yes, there are deaths (not 'a death', deathS) in this chapter, though I'm sure some of you won't like it. I had to kill these two characters, though it pains my heart to. I liked them probably more than you do but I needed them to die. =(**

Vivian and I struggle along with our heavy packs. Vivian asked June if she could carry something but she just shook her head. I'm beginning to wonder if this alliance was such a good idea. All June seems to have bought to the trio is extra weight in our packs, but I'm sure when the times comes she'll be as much use to the team as bother and will give something, hopefully. Well, at least we're the ones with the night vision goggles. With June's decision to stay silent she couldn't exactly argue, just shake her head angrily. Vivian and I, with the odd nod or shake of head from June, have decided that the others will probably be by the forest and although we're in the forest too June has told us through the movement of her head rather than her lips that no-one else is around here.

We struggle along, wiping the sweat from our brows. The heat came as a pleasant surprise to me and Vivian, but it only lasts in the day and is a great bother if you want to actually move anywhere, let alone travel long distances. We've decided that since Suzie's dead there has to be someone or something at the Cornucopia. If Anvike and Precious decided to stay at the Cornucopia then we'll have the element of surprise on our side, even if they're probably better than us. I could probably take on Anvike and June and Vivian combined could probably get rid of Precious. I know it's risky, but they're probably not there. If that's the case another tribute might have decided to camp there the keep the things they left behind, for they couldn't take it all with them. If it's Rip then we'll kill him, Dral then I'll convince the others to let him into the alliance. Then we'd really be unstoppable.

If no-one's there then we can take some of the remaining things at the Cornucopia and then go, so our trip wouldn't have been wasted. Either way it's a win, win, win situation. Anvike and Precious or Rip, we get rid of a tribute or two. Dral, we gain an Ally. If no-one's there then we'll get some supplies as well. Really the plan's a good one, but some-one else will be thinking the same thing so we can't stay there. We'll have to get there, deal with any tributes, grab the stuff and leave. Then we will be safely secured to be on the up. You never know, the other tributes might deal with each other, but if you want something done properly you should do it yourself.

Eventually, after a day of endless toil, though you wouldn't know it was a day the way the darkness surrounds everything, we see the golden glint of the Cornucopia and hurry along. We creep up by the trees and glance around. We can't see anyone but it could be a trap. By a fair democratic process 'say if you don't want to go' we shove June out to scout around. Vivian and I silently creep along until we have a better view. June enters the Cornucopia slowly, crouching around. We wait as she stays in there, but then she exits without any trouble. She gives us the thumbs up and we struggle out of the bushes. Enough bloodshed has occurred here and it seems the Gamemakers have not lured any tributes or mutts into the surrounding area. We smile and look at the small pile of supplies. It looks like someone got here after Anvike and Precious, but they've left. I hope it was Dral.

We fish around and find a few things that seem quite nice. We get June's sleeping bag and fill it with food and canteens filled with water. We also add an extra blanket and a sleeping bag. All the tents have gone and I have a feeling that almost everyone else in the arena has one except us. It seems terribly unfair but I guess that's just how the cookie crumbles. I stop myself. Now I'm starting to sound like Debbie with her ridiculous Capitol phrases. Although I'm fortunate and well off cookies are a luxury and only people from the Capitol could use some ridiculous phrase like that. People from the districts don't crumble cookies anyway, it's a waste.

I'm struck out of my thoughts by June tugging my sleeve. Yes, it's time to go. We need to get out of here before anyone else comes along. I reluctantly heave my pack onto my back and I can see June sling the sleeping bag full of supplies over her shoulder. We walk off. Now we're going to find somewhere a safe distance away where we'll set up camp for the night. We struggle off under the weight of our bags and soon June tugs at Vivian and me to stop.

"Come on June!" I sigh, "We need to find a decent camp by nightfall. We can't rest."

But June tugs at my sleeve again and points to a hole in her sleeping bag. Items have fallen out. We've only been walking for ten minutes so it can't be too bad.

"I'll go back." Says Vivian, seeing me hesitate, "The supplies are important, I'll catch you up."

"OK," I say and Vivian jogs off, "But be quick!" I hastily add and June and I slowly creep off into the dark.

First of all there's the tension in the air, like something isn't right. Then there's the scream. Vivian's scream echoes across the arena followed by a huge bang. _No, that can't be._ But I know it was. There was cannon fire. I shoot off into the distance, June hot on my heels. Where is she? Who did this to her? Is she... I cut the thought out of my mind. The cannon was the tribute that attacked her, not her. The cannon was the other tribute that's dead. She's a murderer not a corpse, though I know how one of those feels yet I still wish she was like me with that amount of guilt resting on her shoulders rather than dead. She can't be dead. I won't believe it. It's all too sudden, too frightening, I can't lose a sister, I won't.

June is faster than anything I've ever seen, yet still I speed ahead of her and hear her panting behind me, struggling to keep up. I don't know how fast I'm going and I don't care. I need to find her, I need to help her. I launch myself as far as I can go and then I see the hovercraft lifting a girl's body into the air. Please let it be Precious! But the cascading black hair tells me otherwise. June is crashing through the undergrowth to catch up with me but desperation and anger takes over. Who killed her? Then I see a figure running away through the darkness. Anvike or Rip. My anger sends my knife flying through the air and into the back of her attacker and he falls with a scream. I struggle forward, ready to finish off whoever it is if need be.

But I reach the body and stare at the face, wishing, praying that it isn't true, but it is. The person in front of me, the boy in front of me is Dral. I feel hot tears running down my cheeks; I'm unable to control them. I bend over carefully and cradle his head in my hands.

"Kara." He mutters.

"Yes Dral, it's me." I say, unable to contain the tears splattering his face or the torrent of emotions boiling all over me.

"Kara." repeats Dral, his voice becoming desperate. I reach my hand to his face and stroke it carefully, feeling his soft skin.

"What is it Dral?" I sob, my head becoming dizzy and my vision blurring, my whole consciousness spinning inside my head.

"Kara, I love you." Dral croaks and he exhales loudly, his breath leaving him. I don't want him to suffer the same fate as my father, me never being able to tell him about the emotions brewing around me. I would lie and tell him he's safe and he's fine. I would lie and tell him that it's just a bad dream. But I don't need to lie as I plant a kiss on his cheek as the fire inside it finally dies down.

"I love you too, Dral. I love you too."

**That makes me so sad when I read it again! The thought of having Kara accidently kill Dral came to me quite a while back and it was inspired by when in the hunger games, Rue gets speared and Katniss shoots an arrow at the attacker before seeing who they truly are. But what got me thinking was – what if Rue's murderer had been Peeta? What if Katniss had accidently killed Peeta? Well know you know with different characters! Please review because this chapter is so sad! =(**

**No doubt I'll be getting loads of hate PMs now for killing of two of the most popular characters in ONE chapter, but, you know, these things happen. I almost cried when I realized that they both were gone forever (ALMOST cried), I got used to them and their quirky ways. And when Kara FINALLY admits her love for Dral the cannon fires and he's out of it - dead! =( I did warn you that this is no Katniss and Peeta hunger games, only one of them can live. But don't worry, there are plenty of plot twists to come, so don't stop reading and reviewing! =D**


	37. Chapter 37  Depression

**This is the shortest Chapter so far. I'm afraid to say that it's a bit of a filler but I felt we needed to catch up with Kara's thoughts and you had a good previous chapter. I'm so sorry to some of you but it has a song in it, people told me not to drop the songs but to make them shorter and have less of them, so that's what I've done. We haven't had a song since Kara dived into a snowdrift to escape the tracker-jackers, which was a while away, so I'm sorry if you don't like it but it's in here. **

A worried face appears above me. My vision is blurry and everything I can see has morphed into a twirl of shapes and colours, my eyes unable to distinguish between the two. I squint at the face, my brow covered in sweat.

"Vivian? Dral?" I ask, hoping desperately that my thoughts were a bad dream, a twisted reality. The figure solemnly shakes their head. June. My heart sinks as yesterday's feelings kick in. Dral's dead. Vivian's dead. My head spins crazily and the steady beat of raindrops dancing on the rocks around me just sends me into some sort of trance. Dead, they're dead. They're both dead. My breathing suddenly becomes irregular and every breath I take just sends me into a higher flurry of needing air, my lungs contorting to access oxygen.

June bends down and makes a hushing sound, resting her hand on my brow. I frantically bat it away and squirm around. I have to get up. I have to do something. Then suddenly, just as quick as the franticness began, it ended, being filled by an endless pit of desperation. Everyone close to me dies because of me. Vivian bumped into Dral because of me; the knife flew towards Dral because of me. They are dead because of me. I didn't just murder Dral, I murdered Vivian too. I jerk upwards again, the madness returning, and just as I struggle to my feet a heavy clang fills my ears as cold metal slams into my head and I crumple to the floor out cold, June.

I slowly drift in and out of consciousness, gradually becoming more and more aware of my surroundings. I'm in some sort of cave, a tiny pin prick of light enabling me to see. I clutch my aching head and feel a bandage tightly wrapped onto my head, grasping the headache and preventing it from going away. Mine and June's things are piled in a heap in the corner as well as some others; they must be Dral's. He must have done pretty well to have got all that, he must have been the person who got to the Cornucopia before us; he must have been camping nearby.

I try to knock all thoughts of Dral out of my mind, obliterating the very essence of him from even the deepest depths of my heart. It's no use; I can't stop thinking about him. Why? I should be thinking about Vivian, my step sister. I have a step sister suddenly and then I lose her to the hands of a friend who I then murder. Dral was more than a friend though; he was something special, even if I wouldn't let Panem see it, he was someone special and I killed him. I don't deserve to live. I think of the boy from district twelve whose name was something like Leo and stroke the jacket I'm wearing. It isn't the same. Vivian was wearing it along with the goggles that I took off Martha-Rose as I cut the thread sending her plummeting to her death.

Vivian had a lot of my things, but now they're all gone, probably shipped off to some Capitol auction fetching ridiculous prices for something so small and insignificant. Vivian is, no, was my step sister, the girl who was stabbed by Dral. Why did he do it? Well, why wouldn't he? We're in the final eight and a kill is a kill. But if that's so why am I tormented by pictures of Dral's face. I killed to save him, that boy from district seven. I still am haunted at night by pictures of his face, of all of their faces.

I lie in the cold, damp cave, curling into a ball to escape myself. What sort of a monster have I become? What kind of person does those things willingly? What kind of a person kills their friends and condemns their family? I did, I am that sort of person. I am a murderer.

I hum solemnly, a funeral song that was played at my mother's funeral. Her death was my fault too; she died because of me as well, another death to add to my list. I remember the song, it even had words. It's short and simple, just the way my mother liked it. Just the way Vivian likes, no, liked it. Soon I'm singing along in a low, coarse voice.

_Pay attention weary traveller and hear a tale of old,_

_Take note fellow wanderer, and don't be brash or bold,_

_Listen to the whispers from the shrubs and trees,_

_Hear the knowing of death, how life is never pleased,_

_A life begins in happiness and joy and merry cheers,_

_Then slowly it gets worn down all throughout its years,_

_It's never smooth it's always full of many creases,_

_But suddenly it stops, yes, life un-expectantly ceases,_

_It's followed through by mourning and sadness in the heart,_

_Life stops in a whizz, just as quickly as it does start,_

_Just listen and understand the message I convey,_

_So you better listen weary traveller for it will be you one day._

I feel my throat become sore and rigid, my voice becoming hoarse and I feel a warm tear trickle down my cheek and land on my tongue. It's salty and tingles by tongue unpleasantly but I keep it there to remind myself of the bitterness of the moment and the feelings soon to come. The taste eventually fades, but my depression doesn't. I feel my face, hot and blotchy, and close my eyes, trying to establish an inner peace. Of course nothing happens but I desperately try to sleep. But thoughts are buzzing around in my head like a beehive and although my heart beat steadies I just feel the well of desperation take hold and I feel complete and utter helplessness. It's best if I die, that means someone who deserves to live can go home, like June. Even Rip and Anvike and Precious deserve to live more than I do. I've killed more people than anyone else in the arena. The Capitol must think I might even enjoy it.

My heart flutters helplessly, in hope of a saviour, but none comes. I'm a murderer and I should die. My limbs feel like lead and slowly drift downwards, collapsing exhausted. My whole body is sinking towards the ground, becoming heavier and heavier. Eventually I toss out all the worried thoughts swarming in my mind and slip into a troubled sleep.


	38. Chapter 38  Blood and Tears

**OK, this is one of the biggies like when Vivian tells Kara they're step-sisters and when Kara kills Dral, this chapter has one of my top 3 plot twists in it, so enjoy because in this chapter June FINALLY speaks! =D**

I wake up and feel for my knife. It's not there, oh, that's just perfect. I scrabble around, why is it gone? I distinctly remember leaving my knife in Dral, but I had another one. I look up and see June, gutting some wild sort of bird with a knife. Everything is quite dizzy and my head thumps. Dral, Vivian, dead. My eyes glaze over with tears and I feel burning inside of me, like someone has tipped corrosive acid down my throat. I feel terrible, absolutely awful. My head is spinning and all I can do is focus on June with my knife, why, why me, why now?

Instead of anger at myself I just feel pity. If I don't pull myself together I will die. I don't know why June hasn't killed me yet, with my ruthless streak I'm sure I would have. I've probably killed more people than Anvike and Precious put together. I'm worse than all of them, but I realize now that I'm just going to have to live with it if I'm to see my father like I promised and tell him that I love him, like I did to Dral. Because I love Dral and I love my father and I love Vivian. I love my love, I love my father and I love my step-sister. I refuse to say loved because although they are dead my love isn't. I'm as guilty of killing Dral as Vivian did to her boyfriend, Harley. I'm as guilty of killing Vivian as she is Harley. I didn't want or mean to kill them, and I put some joy in their lives as well as the pain.

I bite my lip and for once I'm thankful of the bad habit because it knocks me fully into my senses. I'm going to go and I'm going to win. I leap up out of the makeshift bed June has made for me. She whips her head around in surprise but says nothing and for once I'm thankful. I don't want to talk, I want to do. I grab the bird and knife out of June's hands and start gutting it. There, once I've stopped moping around and have started to do something I feel a lot better.

June just stares at me in awe and I flash her a cheery smile. Being silent is nice, I've been talking and singing all my life, but the moment I embrace silence I'm stuck with myself and have to fact it. It's liked running away all your life and then suddenly you stop and turn around to face your follower to show them that you're not scared and you can deal with it. After I've gutted the bird in extreme speed I hand it over to June who starts plucking it. I exit the cave to find a convenient stream right in front of me. That's really useful, June knows her spots well. I dip my hands into the cold water, feeling its icy grip caressing my pale skin. I smile at the cold due to the heat the Gamemakers have sent. Evidently it's day now, not that you'd know with the darkness. June has commandeered the night vision goggles that we have left but I can see well enough to be able to wash my hands. I wonder how June caught the bird. Well, that doesn't matter now. What matters is that I do things to keep myself occupied but let the silence lick me with its cold tongue.

I stagger into the cave and collapse next to June and slowly smile. I pluck the feathers off the bird with her, and we're halfway through when June suddenly motions for me to stop. I freeze and listen out for what's happened. Then I hear it, a quiet rustling coming from the river bank. If we had been talking we wouldn't have heard it, another promise for the secrets of silence.

The rustling grows louder and June and I shrink back against the cave wall. If we're caught here we're sitting ducks. We could always go out in the open, but that means we might be caught. We stay deathly still and then the worst thing happens. June coughs, she starts coughing and then she doesn't stop, she's chocking. I slam my hand on her back and she stops but it's too late, they're coming. June scrabbles for the knife and holds it aloft. Someone is scrambling by our cam and then a sadistic figure jumps through the cave entrance. We're trapped like rabbits in their warren with a fox slowly digging tem out. June raises her knife to throw at the figure but the person gets there first, a knife plunging in her heart.

I scream a high pitched shriek and with no regard to my safety I dive next to June, hoping I can save her. But it's too late, that's obvious. Anvike stands there, tall and proud a grin on his face and I know he's not going to give me a quick death like June. Tears stream down my cheeks and I stroke June's face.

"June, I..." I stutter, breaking the silence we have held for over a day now.

June just looks at me and then she speaks. Her voice is like golden honey, smooth and caressing the ear. It's like an orchestra playing a soothing piece and the ocean swaying slowly. A single crystal tear trickles down her cheek.

"Win for me, Kara." She croaks, even now her voice as beautiful as the mother of all pearls, "Win and give this to my mother."

She grips my hand and presses something into it – her district token. I feel a single gold ring with a pearl in the middle. Then her grip slowly softens and she becomes limp to the sound of cannon fire. I turn around and stare at Anvike, June's knife flung by his foot. There's no way I could get that. I look around desperately for a weapon. What about the knife Anvike threw at June? I kneel by her and tug but it doesn't come out. Admitting defeat I slip the pearl ring on my finger alongside my mother's sapphire and face Anvike on my knees.

A sickening grin is smeared across his face and the pleasure is evident. He reaches for a sword from his belt and opens his mouth to speak. But instead of words coming out of his mouth there is blood, repulsive and flowing. I stare, terrified at him as he collapses to the floor and I look at the hand which held the knife which is now embedded in his back, the hand that killed Anvike, the hand that now is above me, the hand that now is offering itself to me and helping me up.

I look along the hand and see the owner of the hand of my soon to be ally. Precious Good.

**There's only three left now - Kara, Precious and Rip. Now do you see why I haven't done anything in Precious' POV in The Realisation of Hunger? It's because she's not who she seems to be! =D**


	39. Chapter 39  Hysterical

**The last two have been quite short but I've been working on this, a school presentation and essay, the realisation of hunger, eight A4 pages of revision notes and my new SYOT: Kill or be Killed. (Yes, I stole the name from what this used to be called). According to my poll people want to keep calling it Gnawing Hunger, so I'm fine with that. =D**

Precious screams a horrific scream and lunges down towards Anvike, placing her hand on his chest then she starts sobbing, racking her body. If I killed her now I'd be in the final two, but she didn't kill me when she could have. I look at her, cradling Anvike's head in her arms and she lets out a terrible screech as the cannon fires signifying his death

"You said you wouldn't harm them." Sobs Precious to the corpse, her hopes and dreams wrecked.

"You promised that you wouldn't harm them!" She screeches again, hysterical. Tears are streaming down her beautiful features and her luscious blonde hair and dazzling green eyes show attraction no more. She places her head in her hands.

"It's not fair! You can't die! I love you! I love you!" She screams at Anvike's blank face, his eyes pitiless and merciless. She shakes him vigorously, hoping he might just be sleeping, hoping that the cannon was wrong.

"Why? No! You can't do this to me; my life is nothing, nothing without you! My heart is of stone, my looks are of paper. I would have died for you, but you had to do it, didn't you?" She screams at him, exploding.

"Why can't you just think? Why does this have to happen to me and you? You can't die on me, Anvike, it's not fair. Why do you have to die on me? I don't know how or what would have happened, I don't know what we would have done but we would have lived if it wasn't for you and your stupid honour. WE WOULD HAVE LIVED!"

I lie on the floor next to June, gaping at Precious. I never knew she was like that, I never knew she contained so many emotions, so much feeling. I thought of her as Anvike's sidekick, his minion. I thought she was shallow and pretty, that's all. I thought she lived off her looks and her looks lived off her, but that isn't the case. As I see her kneeling over Anvike's dead body, screaming at his corpse I know something for certain. Precious loves Anvike more than I love Dral, and that scares me because for all I know she could blame me for what happened to him, and that would mean death. She's going through exactly the same of what I did. I look at her, screaming hysterically and I know what to do. I pull her up to her feet; she's wobbling and needs me to prop her up. I look her right in the eye and I tell her something that I never thought I would. She looks at me and croaks in a devastated voice.

"I killed Anvike!" She screams. I lock eyes with her and tell her my horrific secret.

"I killed Dral."

Her mouth gapes open and she sees the pain in my eyes. I don't know what we would have done but we both collapse of each other simultaneously, me sobbing and her screeching. There are only three of us left and I know if Rip does hear us screaming he'll think that we're either killing each other or it's a trap. Either way he won't come near us. Who would come near the two sexy career girls from district two and district eight, both of which have made it into the final three?

Precious and I stay like that for a while, letting all the sorrow seep out of our bodies. We both killed someone we love. We both know only one of us can win, but that doesn't seem to matter. I don't entirely trust Precious, but what else can I do?

Eventually we pull ourselves together enough to build a fire and sit around it, letting the smoke rise. If Rip comes we'll finish him off together, if not then we'll have to improvise.

We sit in silence for a while and then Precious breaks it.

"What happened?" Asks Precious, and I freeze momentarily.

"When?" I ask, suspiciously.

"Since we last met." Says Precious, fingering her blonde curls. I notice both of us have tightened our belts considerably since the Cornucopia. I guess the weight that we put on in the Capitol has gone alright.

"Dral and I ran away from the careers, dealing with Daphne and Cecil and leaving Suzie."

Precious nods, "I know, we met her."

"Well, eventually I left him and climbed the mountain." I continue hurriedly, "Up there I met Vivian, I was about to kill her when..." I pause and glance at Precious who is gazing at me expectantly. I give a slight smile and stop fiddling with my hands. I don't trust her.

"Well, she told me she had some useful information so we became allies." I say, it's not a whole lie anyway, she did have useful information and she did tell me.

"Then the Gamemakers sent an avalanche and drove us down the mountain where we met June and we joined up." I say, finding my fingers have started twiddling again.

"We got to the Cornucopia, gathered some supplies and left but June had dropped something so Vivian went back. Then we heard a scream and cannon fire so we ran towards the scream. Vivian was dead, but I saw a figure hurry away. I thought it was Rip or..." I freeze and Precious nods, she knows who I mean. I hurry on.

"Well, I threw a knife and I killed him, but it was Dral." I stutter, but I have to appear strong for Panem now even if I haven't over the past few days. I know the betting will be going wild at the moment so I smile a little, even if it's just to reassure myself.

"Then I got here and a few days later you came." I finish hurriedly, "But what's happened doesn't matter. It matters what's going to happen, about Rip, I mean. What should we do?" I ask worriedly.

"Well, it looks like he's not going to come looking for us so we're going looking for him" Says Precious, as she stares at the ash floating out of the fire and slowly dying in the cold dark light. We both have night vision goggles, I took June's and Precious and Anvike still had theirs.

I look around the darkness that has enveloped us here.

"Yes," I say, "I suppose we better."


	40. Chapter 40  Feelings

**I am so sorry for the long wait, my SYOT : Kill or be Killed took over for a bit so I won't be updating daily but I won't abandon this, especially since it's so near the end. This is just catching up with Kara's feelings and all, probably more for my benefit than yours because I haven't written in almost a week and I've been writing in twenty-five perspectives for my SYOT (24 tributes and Caesar Flickerman) so I get a bit muddled. I won't keep you waiting, just tell me what you think!**

The next day we struggle in the heat that has been produced, even though there is no light. I would wonder how they've done it but I know it's the Capitol – it's what they do. I struggle on, trying to blank pictures of Anvike's blood pouring out of his mouth or Precious' screaming, mad and possessed. But no matter how much I want to forget it I can't and I know deep down that it will stay with me forever, whether I win the hunger games or not.

Eventually I muster up the courage to speak. "Are you ok?" I ask Precious. She answers with a solitary nod and passing over the water canteen. I take a quick swig and then return it. I don't want for our water to run out when we're this close to the finish. I still don't trust Precious, despite Anvike's ghastly death and her inhuman screams, I know she wants to go home as much as I do, but I have a slightly more pressing matter than betrayal. Somehow, don't ask me how, the capitol have drained our only water source, the stream we've been following. It's a common occurrence in the games as a tactical way of drawing the few remaining tributes together.

The only water sources I've had access to is the stream, the water given at the Cornucopia and melted snow, so at first I assumed they wanted to draw us to the mountain, but Precious told me it was not true and explained why. Because of all the heat the snow has been melting, causing dirty undrinkable water which is surely poisoned. She said that when she and Anvike were hunting for tributes there was a raging river with a protruding lake coming out of it. Since the lake is closer that's where we're headed for, and no matter how much I really don't want to agree with her I find it is the only sane option available, even though I know we are walking into a trap.

I trudge on, a bead of sweat running down my brow. No matter how hot it is now it will be freezing cold at night so I better keep myself happy. Precious suggested that we should travel at night because it would be colder then and the darkness wouldn't be different. However I disagreed and eventually convinced Precious that we should travel by day and sleep by night because it seems the kind of thing Rip would do, and we don't want him slitting our throats while we're sleeping, not when we're this close.

I imagine what the Capitol must be thinking of us, the two pretty girls in the final three, working together to defeat Rip, both unsure of what to do when we do find him. I still don't see why Precious doesn't kill me now. She has a weapon and I don't, she still hasn't entrusted me with one though, probably because she senses that I would backstab her as soon as I got the chance. She's not afraid of killing, I can tell that too, by the amount of dead bodies branded with her name on it. She seems haunted though, she tells me ghostly stories about Anvike, how he carved his initials into tribute's dead bodies and how he continued to stab them even after the cannon fire, but still she is besotted with him. Love works in mysterious ways. The only reason I can come up with as why I'm not dead yet is that I have something she needs; only I better find out what.

Precious shoves a sword into the ground like a post and swishes her long blonde hair out of her sharp green eyes.

"We'll camp here tonight." She says gruffly, her voice has roughened since she killed Anvike. I think, no, I know, it has made a huge impact on her. Well, it made a huge impact on me. I nod solemnly and pocket a sharp stick that I have been scraping into shape with my fingernails throughout the trek. Anything can be turned into a knife if you know how. I doubt it would do much damage but it comforts me to know I'm not completely vulnerable and at the hands of this girl.

I settle down and start to light a fire. Rip's a coward. He just ran. He took one look at the bloodbath and fled, but now he's in the final three. All I know is that he must have a pretty stable living to be unscathed, he must be either in an area with no Gamemaker traps or they have all been set off already. Either way he must have access to clean water and a steady supply of food. Knowing that the lake isn't such a bad bet after all. I try to untangle my hair without much success, oh well, my rich and sexy approach must have flown away by now, the only thing the Capitol knows is that I'm a survivor, but if you think about it, we all are.

I mull the contestants over in my head. Rip Knead is the district nine boy, he looks about seventeen but I could be wrong because of his substantial bulkiness. He went for the tough approach but hasn't kept it since he got into the arena, running away from any signs of trouble. His district partner was Tara Dessin, who was the unfortunate lunch for the wooden alligator Dral and I came across. He ran away at first sight but has survived so far. I don't think he's had any allies, and piecing together scraps of information from me, Dral, Vivian, June and Precious I'm pretty certain that he hasn't killed anyone. That means that he's a survivor but despite all of his muscle he's a coward.

Now onto Precious Good, the girl from district two, she's sixteen, the same age as Vivian, one year older than me. She went for the sexy approach and would have pulled it off amazingly if it wasn't for me and my interview, but really she's onto a winner there, she's perfect for it. Her district partner was Cecil Rees, the boy who Dral killed when we escaped from the career camp together. She stayed and fought in the bloodbath and even killed someone, as I recall. She was allies with the careers, then went off with Anvike and came back after the early split that Dral and I caused. She killed the girl from five in the bloodbath and either the girl from ten or the girl from twelve in tribute hunting. Then she killed Anvike Tall, the boy she was in love with, in a flash of anger or an attempt to save me, maybe both. All I know is that she regrets it and if she decides it's my fault I'm pretty much dead meat.

Then there's me. Kara Jaymond, the ex-head Peacekeeper's daughter, rich, sexy and dangerous, the girl who has been living a lie. I'm fifteen, the youngest here. I went for rich and sexy and due to Ally it was a stunner. My district partner was Vivian Hall, my maid and my half-sister (**I changed it now – thanks for pointing it out**). She was killed by Dralakone Hurling, the boy that I loved and still do, despite his death. I stayed in the bloodbath and killed twice there, making myself a murderer, and that was only the start of the killing. I murdered the boy from district twelve whose name was something like Leo, then I killed Alan String, the boy from seven, when he was grappling with Dral in the bloodbath. I killed Daphne Shoe when trying to escape from the career camp and also I killed the girl from six, Martha-Rose Fall, I dropped her down a crevasse when she tried to shoot me with an arrow. Then finally I killed Dralakone Hurling in an instinct so mad when I saw the figure running away from Vivian's dead body. I have killed four people, four children, and I know that if I want to get out of this alive I will have to do more.

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	41. Chapter 41  Improvise

**I've got you a nice action chapter since I've been updating my SYOT most of the time, I am pretty happy with this chapter and I thought it was time we saw what would happen if both Kara and Precious were placed in a death defying situation, would one of them run? Let's find out!**

_Dral, June and Vivian stand in a circle around me. No matter what I do they're just out of touching distance and move with me, haunting me. They come up to me and whisper things, lies. Vivian says I am a fool to believe her lies about being my sister, Dral says he has always hated me, it was all a charade for the hunger games and June does not speak, but her message is clear enough. She never would have spoken to me of her own free will; she never wanted to speak to me._

I wake up the next morning by Precious shaking me awake. My vision is blurry and although I know better to make a noise I need to know what's going on. Is Rip here? It must be Rip! I leap to my feet and stare at Precious.

"What is it? Is it Rip?" I ask desperately in a hurried whisper but she just shakes her head and points to the lake. What I see makes my mouth gape like an open hole. A Capitol mutation of some sort, but nothing like I've ever seen. Its eyes are a deep mustard yellow and are round and its eyelids blink the wrong way around, but it isn't the eyes I should be worrying about. It's like a giant water snake, some sort of sea serpent. It's a deep marine blue and has several sets of teeth in its crushing mouth.

I look at Precious and she gives me a weak smile and then tosses me a knife. She just armed me – finally! Though now's not the time to kill her, I'll do it after we've got out of this pickle. I stare at the sea serpent, its gills vibrating in the bitterly dark air, and then it dives back into the lake, its tail swiping our way. I quickly pull Precious to the side away from the tail. Why did I do that? She has to die for me to get back home. I ignore my squabble inside myself and turn to the more pressing matter – the huge mutt trying to kill us. I pull back my arm and am about to throw my knife when Precious gets there first with hers. It hits right between its eyes, a clean kill. But the serpent doesn't fall down and sink to the deep, it just growls a ferocious, evil growl and then hisses its way back under the surface just to reappear somewhere else.

"What the tributes!" curses Precious, "I got a clean shot there and it didn't even flinch!"

The serpent roars at us and sends its scaled tail flying at our heads; we only manage to duck just in time.

"I think you just made it angry!" I call and look at my knife, then a plan starts to form in my mind, "you hold it off, I've got to get something."

"Hold it off!" Roars Precious, almost as loud as the sea serpent, "How am I meant to do that?"

"I don't know, improvise!" I yell as I sprint back to our provisions. I hurriedly dig through them, water container, spare bandages, dried fruit, argh! Where is it? Finally I get it and look up at the sky and mutter a quick thank you to Lumina. In my hand is the rope I used to scale up the mountain and to drop Martha-Rose down the crevasse. I brush the memory of her out of my mind and dash over to Precious who is throwing sticks at the sea serpent.

"What are you doing?" I yell at her and she glances at me.

"Improvising!" She yells and lobs another stick followed by a large rock at the sea serpent.

"That's just going to make it angry!" I hiss and try to make a large noose with the rope.

"Well have you got a better idea?" Asks Precious and chucks another stone at it.

"Actually I have, help me with this knot!" I tell her and Precious runs overt to see what I'm doing and when she realizes what I'm going to do her mouth makes an 'O' shape.

"That's risky." Says Precious.

"Would you rather just lob sticks at it?"

"I suppose not but-"

"Stop interrupting then and help me out!"

We scrabble with the rope, this is the third time my stupid knot tying instructor will be able to say he saved my life, once with Martha-Rose, once with the slope and now with the sea serpent. I sigh heavily.

"I'm getting rather tired of this knot." I huff but Precious just rolls her eyes at me and fiddles with some ropes. Eventually Precious stops.

"There! I don't know if it will work but I just hope it does!" She says and passes me the rope, her face becomes deadly serious.

"Be careful." She whispers and I nod and drape the rope over my shoulder and start moving around the lake. The serpent follows me with its beady eyes and I'm worried it's all over but then a stone flies from Precious' side and I hear her shout.

"Hey snake thing! Try and constrict this!"

I chuckle lightly as I turn into a steady jog. Precious really seems to lighten me up. I gulp though and glance at her. She gives me a quick thumbs up and dives out of the way of the swishing tail of the serpent and focuses back on it. I close my eyes and plunge into the icily cold water. The serpent suddenly jerks its head towards me but I bite my lip and start kicking towards the small island in the middle of the lake. I hear Precious shout again but I can feel the water rippling, the serpent is moving, probably towards me. I kick harder and try to fight off the bitterly cold water wrapping its freezing arms around my body, trying to tug me into the depths. I grimace again and kick, making my feet touch the foam and water. I feel something slimy brush past my leg and kick on, my vision surrounded by flashes of water and foam and my breathing jerky and irregular.

Suddenly I hit something and fly backwards, afraid it's the serpent but it's the island in the middle of the lake. I smile cheerily and drag myself onto the island like a landed fish. My body suddenly feels like a ton but I manage to stagger to my feet and look for the serpent. It's there, I grin happily. I wrap one end of the rope around my dagger and plant it into the ground as a firm base, and then I hold the huge loop. I whistle to Precious and she stops throwing things at the serpent and darts off into the woods. The traitor! She runs at the first sign of real trouble, she's left me here to die! The serpent slowly and purposefully swerves over to me. I gulp in air; I'm like a sitting duck, an ironic saying for my current situation.

I am shivering all over from the icy grip of the lake but I fight the urge to wrap my arms around my chest and pick up the loop. The serpent glides through the water like glass through flesh and rears up so it's at its full height, looming over me like one of the Capitol skyscrapers. I shiver at the cold air and face the serpent, my eyes ready. I sneer at it to my best abilities and then breathe in and out slowly making sure I don't hyperventilate. I see venom dripping off its teeth, but the layers and layers of them are more like fangs then teeth. I hold my legs out wide in a firm posture and stare at the creature, defying it to come any further, but it does.

It slides towards me and pushes its face almost right up to mine so I can smell its breath, a stench of rotting meat and dripping salt like you would find in the sea. I bite my lip again but stand firm. Slowly I raise my loop of rope up into the air. If I miss this then I'm dead. I close my eyes and throw the rope at the serpent's head. A terrible inhuman screech sounding like the scraping of chalk on a blackboard, I open my eyes slowly to see the sea serpent screeching at me and I pick the knife up out of the ground and throw it as hard as I can at the tree. It has a good stick and now the only problem is how to get it to go to the other side. I start to panic; I really didn't think this through properly.

But then a loud whistle cries through the arena, ripping open the air around us. The serpent turns to the sound and crashes towards it, leaving me intact. I look at the source of the sound, Precious. She didn't leave me after all; she was just making sure the serpent got over here. She's whistling with her fingers, making a loud and sharp noise. I've always wanted to do that, but evidently it's not happening. The sea serpent lumbers over to her and suddenly it can't go any further. It strains, causing the rope to tighten around its neck. It starts struggling, thrashing around, but the rope just gets tighter and tighter. Suddenly it goes limp and the serpent crashes below the surface, never to be seen again.

**I was actually getting quite attached to that serpent; I was going to call it Bob and keep it as a pet, ah well, things die in the hunger games. Oh yes, I have a SYOT (which is closed) but in a few weeks I'm well into the games, the point is that if you could read it that would be great! You don't even have to read the reapings or the interviews; on the first page I've done a brief character description so you can go straight into the games and the action! It would be great if you could check that out, see where most of my time has gone and hopefully review and vote on my poll about who your favourite characters are! And don't leave this story out, it wants to be reviewed desperately, along with the realisation of hunger! =D**

**~SneverusSnapers**

**R.I.P. Bob**


	42. Chapter 42  Sign of an Alliance

**I'm updating again! Yay! Oh, just wondering, do you want the games to end in the next couple of chapters or do you want more of the games? I was thinking about ending them pretty soon because otherwise my quality of writing will sink. Of course once the games end that won't be the end of Gnawing Hunger, there will be a lot more afterwards. **

I stare at the patch of water where the creature was just moments before and then over at Precious who is standing there like I am, both of us gormless. I got to the tree and untie the rope from the knife and tug it out of the tree trunk, finding that it really was a hard stick after all. I close my eyes and plunge back into the murky waters of the lake, half expecting another sea serpent to burst out of the water in front of me, mouth gaping open and swallow me whole, but no such creature appears. The only monster near me is my heart, I remember how it shone like gold in the chariot rides, lighting up the stadium while Vivian's cold, dark, stony heart rejected any warm glimpses of love and hope I portrayed. Well Ally got it wrong. I'm the monster, not Vivian.

I'm the creature that has killed, I am the murderer. You would look at me and you wouldn't think it but I, Kara Jaymond, have killed. Repetitively. I'm not a hero or a heroine; in fact after the brutal reality in the games I have realized there are no such things. There is no good and evil, no right and wrong, no heroes and villains. There are just people, innocent people, people who live and love and breathe the same air, drink the same water, eat the same food. The only true evil in this world, the only true black heart, devoid of all emotion, rejecting even the warmest of embrace is President Snow's. He is the true monster in these games, not me, not Anvike, Snow. And do you know why he is the most evil I have ever known or ever will? Because he makes people, innocent people, innocent _children_ do his dirty work for him. He makes children kill each other and brands it as entertainment, now if anything is evil then that is.

I eventually stagger back to Precious. There is an awkward pause and I stare at her as she stares back, both of us looking right into each other's eyes.

"You saved my life." I say bluntly, unsure of how to proceed.

"That's what alliances are for, aren't they." Says Precious simply and I feel myself go red, my cheeks burning like fire.

"I suppose so. I just thought that you, when you ran off, I thought that." I stutter, my thoughts buzzing around like bees in my head, trapped and unable to come out, to come out and show themselves.

"Save your breath. I know what you thought." Precious says firmly and I gulp. She didn't kill me after all, but would she have? I have no idea what I think of Precious now. I have a knife and she doesn't but what happened with the sea serpent has changed my view on her. I don't think I could kill her now which isn't a good thing, the last two people who I thought I could never kill ended up dying because of me, Dral and Vivian. I guess that's what happens in the hunger games, people die while others survive. Yes, people die.

Precious seems to pick up on my silence so smiles meekly at me and tosses over something in my direction. In an automatic reflex I catch it before I even know what it is. I hold it up in the air and examine it. I gasp as I see a heart-shaped diamond welded onto a pure silver ring carefully glinting in the light, the single colour somehow glinting and changing into many others like a rainbow.

"Your district token." I murmur and Precious smiles slightly.

"Not exactly," she says and takes it off me and slides it onto my finger alongside my mother's sapphire ring and June's pearl. They all rest on three fingers on my right hand. I had June's pearl on my fourth finger and my sapphire on my index finger and now Precious slips her diamond ring onto my middle finger, resting carefully between June's pearl and my sapphire. I gulp back tears and look up and see Precious is also trying not to cry.

"Why not exactly?" I mutter, the only thing I can think of saying, and Precious averts my gaze.

"It's a district token but it's not mine."

We both pause and then at exactly the same time we say the same thing, Precious acknowledging and me with sudden realisation, "Anvike."

"No!" I almost scream, suddenly being able to speak again properly, pushing my hand towards her with my other, my hand wearing the ring so limp that I am unable to move it without the other hand's assistance.

"Yes!" She yells and slaps my hand away as I try to pull it off, "I want you to have it, I couldn't bear holding that burden for a second longer. I _killed_ him Kara, if you had Dral's district token you'd want the same."

I freeze for a second and then slowly nod. "Fine, I'll wear it." I murmur and Precious smiles thankfully. If it was Dral's district token I wouldn't have wanted to get rid of it though, I would have wanted to keep it like I did to the boy from twelve's jumper and Martha Rose Fall's night vision goggles, as a burden, a constant reminder of what I did. But Precious wants to get rid of it, to cleanse her body of all thoughts of Anvike. Perhaps that's the best, to accept that I'm a murderer and move on. I pause and then fling my jumper and night vision goggles into the fire, taking the spare glasses. Now I can maybe forget, though I doubt I ever will, even after I'm dead. I see the goggles and the jumper slowly be engulfed into the crackling flames, the licks of heat tickling them at first, then suddenly cascading over everything, every millimetre of them. I bite my lip once again and open my eyes which I have found I clenched shut without apparent reason and water welling up inside them, _it must be the smoke_, I tell myself but I know differently, I know exactly what it is.

I look up at Precious and then finger my knife. After a moment's hesitation I hand it over to her and she stares at the knife, gormless. I have just given her the means of which to kill me, she now has a weapon and I don't. But to my surprise Precious doesn't dive at me or slit my throat like the back of my mind was muttering to do, she just stays still and tucks the knife into her belt. Now we've both transferred burdens, Precious has given me Anvike's and I've given her the worst temptation of all, I have given her the opportunity to kill me.

**This is chapter 42! All true hitchhikers out there will understand my statement, if not... LOOK IT UP! Yay yay yay! 42 *whoop whoop*! The ultimate answer to the ultimate question of life, the universe, and everything! I wouldn't KNOW if I actually owned the hitchhikers guide to the galaxy series because **_**technically **_**no-one knows anything... EXCEPT in the book they say 'What is seven times nine?' 'Forty-two', when ACTUALLY seven times **_**six**_** is forty-two and seven times nine is fifty-four! Heh heh heh! That's all I know, but it's not really meant to make sense is it? Go Marvin the paranoid android!**

**Also I wanted to say that I've put up a new poll on my profile and I want people to vote. It's about which story you think I should take up next in the hunger games zone since I am nearing the end of this one! PLEASE VOTE because I need opinions to help me out!**

**AND I wanted to say I've got a new story containing songs from Gnawing Hunger and little one-shots of different people with relation to characters in here singing them in scenarios. I'd love it if you could check it out and review for me - it would make my day!**

**Oh, and (back to normal) can I just say a HUGE thank you to anyone who has read this far! Can you PLEASE review, even if there are more chapters up which you desperately want to read right now? I don't have an idea who has been reading this and if it's been a success so far or not. Either way I want to know if you've read this far, even if you don't have an account you can still review my stories under an anonymous name and I would LOVE anyone who would review for the rest of my life (which should hopefully be quite a while) so please, please, PLEASE review! =D**

**...**

**NOW!**


	43. Chapter 43 One Step To Home

**One before last chapter in the games – a tribute dies in this one! Then the next it's the ultimate showdown and then it's all over! Well, the games bit anyway! I have co-written, along with RiversOfVenice, a story which we have started. Search for her profile and check it out! It's called 'Set on Fire' (see the twist to 'Catching Fire' eh, so they didn't choose for it to happen to them?) and it's about Katniss and Peeta's daughter! We have written the prologue and it is up and chapters will soon follow! I hope you enjoy it!**

**I have also written 'Enter the Everlasting Black', one-shots modelled on the songs used in this story and have opened up a new Community which you can access via my profile page as you can RiversOfVenice's profile. If you want to become staff for my community just request! I hope you enjoy this and review! And I apologize for my terror at maths in the last chapter, it was HONESTELY a typo, I meant six times nine, sorry for getting it wrong! =O**

Precious brings forward bowls filled with the stew we made. I didn't know there were bowls; I guess that was another thing Precious didn't say. Ah well, if she disclosed everything about herself then she would have no advantage, though the knife is an advantage enough. Vivian and Dral would have shown me their packs. But Vivian and Dral are _dead_. I have got to stop thinking about that, stop thinking about them and pull myself together into something I am not, a hero. I take a gulp of the stew Precious and I prepared, it's not half bad. Of course Dral and Vivian's were a lot better but really this isn't half bad. But Dral and Vivian could both-

I stop myself. I have to stop thinking about the past and think about the present, the future. But thinking about the future means thinking about death, and thinking about death means thinking about the past. I clutch my head with both of my hands and clench my teeth. I settle with not thinking at all and I sit on a log and eat my stew, slowly and purposefully, avoiding Precious' gaze. I know one of us has to die, but whom? In fact both of us might die and Rip might go home to. But where would he go to? Does he have a family? Does he have an elder brother or sister or is he the eldest? Or does he have no family, but then what about his parents? I never thought much, if anything, about the other tribute's families. Well, so much for not thinking. But this is important, if I killed Precious would she be more missed then I would? I have to ask her, get it out of the way. I turn to her slowly.

"Precious, do you have any family?" I ask and Precious slows down eating her stew, chewing purposefully but stays silent. Just when I'm about to turn back to mine, admitting failure she speaks up.

"Yes, I have parents like most people and a younger sister, she's called Angel. But she never wanted to be in the hunger games like I did, no, her ambition was to sing, to dance. She just wanted to become an actress, no, to be on the stage in a musical, not a main part mind you, she would have settled for anything. She just wanted to sing."

"Why are you speaking in past tense?" I ask, then realize maybe I shouldn't have said that.

"She died, well, recently. She got a part in a musical, 'you just have to', you know that one? Well, she was the main character's little Latin daughter, don't ask me why Latin because I haven't got the faintest clue. Well, it was her first big night and she messed up, forgot her lines. They kicked her out onto the streets, wouldn't even give her a lift home. So she starved, on the streets of the Capitol, amongst such wealth and power, she starved."

I feel awkward and am unsure of what to say, "I'm so sorry." I murmur, deciding to go for the safe option.

"No Kara, it's fine, it really is. I just needed to tell someone, that's all. What about you. Do you have a family?"

"Yes, well, my mother died a few years ago and my father got quite paranoid about everything. My sister, half sister actually, was always there for me though, even if I didn't notice it."

"That's often the way, well if you get back you tell her that she's lucky to have you as a sister." Precious smiles.

"She's dead." I say bluntly and Precious' smile disappears, replaced with a sympathetic frown, "She died recently, very recently." I say simply and look down.

"I'm so sorry." Now it's Precious' turn to be awkward and she stares at her hands.

"Kara?"

"Yes Precious?"

"What was her name?"

I pale slightly, could I tell Precious the truth or should I keep it to myself, she doesn't need to know but still I feel I'm not being completely honest with her if I don't say, if she doesn't know that Vivian was my half sister. But that's what the games is all about, deceit and lying, cheating and swindling. Telling her the truth wouldn't help me out one bit, but I owe it to her. She saved my life with the sea serpent and when Anvike tried to kill me. She has the knife yet she isn't using it, she is the one who could kill the other at any second. I slowly push the bowl away and take a swig of water from my canteen. We're running low but we'll just purify more in the morning. I have no idea whether we'll go hunting for Rip or not.

Then I notice Precious is looking at me, waiting for an answer. I take a sharp breath in. I should lie, I should really lie. I'm going to lie, there, solved. These are the hunger games, lies are more common then truths. I shouldn't be worrying. Why am I worrying? I am going to lie. I open my mouth slowly and croak.

"Her name, her name was-"

Cannon fire.

I suddenly look up at Precious as she did to me but she doesn't do anything, she doesn't collapse to the floor, dagger sticking out of her chest or suddenly droop down, the stew having been poisoned. No, we're both intact, I think. We slowly move to our feet and examine the other, we're both alive and well. At the moment. Whatever happened to Rip happened without our doing because Precious and I are here and Rip is the other side of the arena according to the position of the cannon fire. I gulp in air and lock eyes with Precious, knowing that there are only us two left and that only one of us can survive, but who? I couldn't kill Precious and by the looks she's giving me she couldn't kill me either. But one of us will die and either we finish each other off or the Gamemakers will do it for us. Because Precious is now much more than just a step, a step to home, she's a friend and a faithful ally and I'm not killing her.

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	44. Chapter 44 I Thought We Were Allies

**Last chapter in the games but not the last in Gnawing Hunger! There are still more to come and yes, Kara has spent eighteen days in the arena – I counted and it took me a LONG time to go so, scanning the whole of the arena chapters (all thirty-one of them) for hints of nightmares or her waking up the next morning, it took me quite some time since Kara didn't have a regular sleeping pattern but ah well! It's here now!**

Precious stares at me, her face alert, her hand clutching the knife and then she flings it aside into the murky waters of the lake like a message to the Capitol as if to say _do your worst_. I smile at her meekly but she does nothing, just stares at me blankly, a hollow look in her eyes, like when she killed Anvike. I shiver and step back, something's wrong. But she threw away the knife. But as if to answer my question she hisses.

"To make it fair." She snarls and I back up even more.

"Precious what are you doing? I thought we were friends, allies!"

"There are no friends in the hunger games." Precious says, her voice echoing around the arena. I gulp and step back again. I have to help her, talk her out of this. I stand up as tall as I can and swallow back my fear. I have to seem strong, determined.

"You can't do this Precious, you're not a murderer."

"I murdered Anvike," she sneers and steps forward, somehow her menacing sneer mingling with tears and hatred, not at me but at herself. "I murdered Anvike and the girl from five."

"That's it, two people nothing compared to the blood on my hands."

"No! Three, the girl from ten too when I was hunting for tributes with Anvike, you see, I'm a killer and what's another kill going to do to me?"

"Rip you apart, that's what it will do!" I yell and Precious looks up at me.

"If it's the only way home..." She murmurs and lunges at me, her voice an angry shriek, almost mad, her call wild and ferocious. I dart to the side, dodging her flailing hand but she grabs hold of my jumper and tugs me down to the ground beneath her crunching boots and onto the freezing ground enveloped in ice. I try not to scream as she lunges on top of me and tries to pin me down, causing a crack in one of my sides of night-vision goggles, causing me to only be able to look out of the left eye. But before she can get settled finally on top of me I knee her in the stomach. She gasps for breath and while she's winded I roll out of the way and spring to my feet, raising my fists in a defensive position. But why would she do this? I thought she was better than this, I thought she was someone else, someone special. Evidently I was wrong. But maybe, just maybe there's something left in there, inside her shell, some of the real Precious. I gulp and squint at her through one eye.

"You don't have to do this you know!" I call and Precious scowls at me.

"You just don't get it do you? I have to do this!" She yells and despite knowing that we're the only ones in the arena I still worry about being overheard. I've only been in the arena for a short while and already my base survival instincts have kicked in. I dart to the side but Precious sends a sharp stone flying past my face. I duck just in time and turn to her, she really means business. Well it looks like diplomacy isn't working. If I want to live I'll have to do something and soon. I gulp for breath and slowly turn around towards her. I won't flee, I will stay and fight till the death, just like the Gamemakers want.

I grit my teeth, determined, and bend to the floor, scooping up a few stones, because I, Kara Jaymond, am not going down without a fight. Before she can do anything more I charge at her and as she stands there, startled, I push her to the floor, making her collapse on the damp and dirty ground. I hiss, an inhuman hiss, almost like the sea serpent or another of the Capitol's mutts. I need to kill her to get home, to go back to my father, and while it would never be the same I still feel that it's just the way it is there and no matter of worrying can change that, but although it may have changed and I may have a new home now that's not a problem now. The problem is that I need to get home, and to get home Precious has to die.

Precious struggles in my grip as I pin her down to the floor but I look at her, my eyes blank and devoid of emotion, and as I raise the rock above my head and bring it down, crushing her skull. I let a lone tear trickle down my face to signify my sorrow. Anymore and the cameras would pick it up, any less and I wouldn't have fulfilled my revenge on myself, to show that I do care and that I'm not a heartless piece of the games and that what I have done is inexcusable and something only a true monster would do, yet I have done it.

There is a scream and a crack of skull and cannon fire alike and a trumpet echoes through the arena and the hunger games commentator speaks some words into the microphone but I ignore it, I just focus on the rock on my hand and I drop it, startled as the deep red blood touches my hand, dirty. I have to get rid of it, I have to get rid of the blood. I desperately try to wipe the blood off my hand and onto my outfit but it spreads and soon I am engulfed in a never ending coating of deep red, blood red yet still I say nothing as the panic spreads through my body. I say nothing as the hovercraft picks me up with its beams and I am lifted into the air, I say nothing as I reach the inside and am blinding by the light, light which I haven't seen for weeks. I squint and I notice that this isn't just normal light, it is riddled with flashing cameras and lights all wanting a glimpse of me, the new victor. I say nothing as Capitol reporters call out to me, trying to get me to answer.

"How do you feel about the eighteen days you've spent in the arena?" Another reporter calls above the mob, shoving a camera in my face.

Eighteen days? Under three weeks in there, and in just under three weeks my life has changed forever. Another reporter barges past the nurses crowding me and shouts into my face.

"Why do you think you won?" Yet another voice calls.

I look up at the camera, my face one of sheer determination and speak slowly and carefully, finally saying something, breaking my silence and shattering the red coating around me.

"I made a promise, a promise to myself, that I'd get back home to see my father again, to tell him something, and I never break my promises."

**That's the end of the arena but that's not the end of Kara! PLEASE review and please, please, please keep on reading and don't stop now because there are still YET MORE plot twists to come (I know – how could that be possible?) So please review and vote in my newly installed poll asking what I should write next! Oh yes, and RiversOfVenice and I have written together (me co-writing) a story – well, we have just started, about Katniss and Peeta's daughter who is reaped for the hunger games! Yes, fun fun fun! So check that out on RiversOfVenice's profile which is on my favourite author's list and enjoy yourselves and don't forget to review! And to think on chapter 13 I started the games, excited about the bloodbath and all the events that would follow, partially unsure of how it would turn out!**

**ALSO, when I wrote this I remembered I was using someone's quote but I couldn't remember who. tmousey21 has kindly reminded me it was them so I'd like to give them credit for the quote "If it's the only way home..."**

**This was WAY back when they gave it to me and it was if Kara and Dral were in the final two. Of course that wasn't going to happen since I had come up with an evil scheming plan for Dral's demise but still, I used it. I'm so sorry I didn't put credit when I originally published this for a few hours, I just honesttly couldn't remember who the quote came from, but if you see I did remember to use it since I did say that I would remember it at the time and I have! Well I hope you enjoyed this chapter but by no means is Chapter 44 the last in Gnawing Hunger!**


	45. Chapter 45 Zap the White

**It's a short chapter but that doesn't really matter. Next chapter should (hopefully) be the post games interviews!**

White. I am surrounded by white. White walls, white floor, white bed, white ceiling. I feel as if I'm blind for all I can see is one colour. But then I lift up my hand, red. I scream, an inhuman screech ricocheting across the room, but no sound escapes and the hollow echo fades, leaving me with silence. Silence. White. I feel empty, yet full. Worried, yet calm. Alert, yet peaceful. It's as if I have divided in two. But there is just one thing I am sure of, red. I run around and see a white door. I push it but it doesn't open. No handle. I'm trapped, trapped forever. I scream and push it again but nothing happens apart from the faint echo drifting into the back of my ears. Echo. White. Blind. Silence.

Each word weaves into my mind. Red. I scream again and run to the other end of the room and push against the walls until I reach a handle. Why haven't I seen that before? My brow creases but I know the answer. White; blind. I know everything is the same colour. But what is happening to me? Why am I so cold in my heart, so blank? Cold. Blank.

I feel strange, dizzy, peculiar; I tug the handle of the door and barge in. A bathroom, oh. I scurry to the sink and plunge my hands in, red; I have to get rid of the red. I scrape the soap against my hands and I call out to no-one in particular.

"Echo. White. Blind. Silence. Red. Cold. Blank." I pause, and then shiver, my voice raising to a shout "Luck. Doubt. Pain. BLOOD."

I look at my hands, the water doesn't wash the red away, but I am not acting normally, not thinking normally. I scrunch my eyes up and open them, the same. So why am I feeling weird, uplifted? I groan slightly and look at my arm and see the reason. Some sort of pipe is attached to it and I can see something slowly being pumped into my arm, I reel, morphling.

I screech and leap back, tugging the tube from my arm. The repulsive substance splatters to the ground, mixed with my blood, but I don't mind. I charge into the other room and collapse on the bed, curling into a ball, crouching low, hiding myself from the terrors that surround me.

I drift into unconsciousness and find myself slowly dribbling into full control of my mind. I slowly, purposefully, shakily, plant my legs onto the floor below me. I feel shock, total utter shock, engulfing me. What is going on? How can I be like this? My head spins and I reach out, what is going on? But I feel the morphling slowly draining out of my bloodstream and remember everything, the bloodbath at the Cornucopia, the early split at the careers, leaving Dral, Martha-Rose Fall, the tracker-jackers, climbing the mountain, my half sister, June, Vivian's limp body raised into the air, the knife flying, cutting Dral down, my screech mingled with Precious' when she found out that she killed Anvike alongside June's words. The sea serpent, giving Precious the knife, the cannon fire, Precious flinging away the knife, the fight and the rock, my hands, red, the cannon fire, and knowing finally that Precious is dead. They're all dead.

I groan a brain shattering groan. It hurts, everything hurts. But I'm safe, I won. I'm a victor. Suddenly the reality of the burden that I have just received creeps into my mind. I'll have to do things, go and mentor children, district eight children, who will die. I will have to go and look everybody in the face, all of the families of the children I've killed. I'll have to do that and more. I bite back tears and stand up. Someone's changed me from my clothes in the arena to an identical, albeit cleaner lot. Then suddenly the door swings open, the one with no handle that I could find and Ally steps in.

"Ally!" I yell, suddenly a grin on my face and I charge at him. He told me I could survive, that I could win, but I didn't believe him. I thought he was lying. How wrong I was. Ally opens his arms and hugs me and I feel myself next to him. I made it through, I survived.

"Come on Kara,! Ally says, prising me off, then motions for my prep team to come in. Bart skulks in followed by Claudia, bouncing merrily and a strange looking boy just a few years older than me. I point at him.

"Who are you?" I ask hostilely, and see Ally looks at him like he doesn't know him either, and isn't exactly approving the arena has taken all my manners, Debbie will have a field day when she finds out what's happened to me and decides to correct it. The boy grins cheekily.

"Zap, the name's Zap." He says simply and I look at him carefully, examining him, yes, the name Zap does suit him. He looks about sixteen, the youngest a prep team member can be and he's from the Capitol like all designers and such. He has electric blonde hair, almost golden, that sticks up like he's just been electrocuted and is wearing ripped black jeans and a tight almost fishnet top, which is a mesh of blue and yellow. He grins again.

"Thanks to you we got a new replacement, Debbie just brought him over!" Claudia squeals and runs to me. So he's my new member of the prep team, well, he sure looks cocky enough.

"Have you had any experience?" Ally asks, looking him up and down and raising an eyebrow at his top.

"I went to design school," Zap starts and Ally tuts but Zap ignores him and keeps on, "and have put out a few pieces of work but nothing major, this is my shot at the big world."

"I guess you designed that," Ally says distastefully, pointing at his fish net shirt.

"No," Zap says simply, "You did."

"What!" Yells Ally and then examines it, then sighs heavily, "Oh no, I was sure that would come back to haunt me."

"Come on, it's not that bad, I just made a few adjustments." Zap says and Ally looks at it carefully and then looks at Zap quizzically, "I got rid of the sequins for a start, then I cut down the length and added some extra mesh and transformed the colour scheme."

"What colour scheme was it before?" I ask, wanting to chip it. Zap smirks but Ally puts his hand on his head first and cuts in before anything can be said.

"Yes, ok, enough about my college failures, we have a victor to make over for her post games interview!"

He grabs me and tugs me out of the room, Claudia and Bart trotting after him like pet dogs. My pre-games interview? Is that already time? I must have been out under morphling for longer than I imagined. Zap swaggers up and sniggers, then jogs up when I'm being dragged away by Ally and whispers in my ear in the corridor.

"Bubblegum pink and mustard yellow." He sniggers and then catches the evil look off Ally and holds back, drifting behind Claudia and Bart as I am tugged away to get dolled up ready for my post games interview, where I realize I'll have to see every death replayed again, the horror of the games is just about to be re-lived.

**Can you lot tell me what you think about Zap? I didn't create three stylists simply because I couldn't be bothered, but I though since Kara won the Capitol might listen and hook up another and since I have just killed off twenty-three characters I think that adding another one isn't going to hurt! Oh yes, and this chapter's name 'Zap the White', sounds really cheesy but I honestly couldn't think up of anything good to come up with!**


	46. Chapter 46 Friend or Foe

**I know I said this chapter would be the post (sorry if I said pre) games interviews, but they will be next chapter, I just REALLY needed to do this one!**

I look down at my outfit, Ally has done it again. I said that since I have survived the games I no longer have to go for the ridiculously short skirts and revealing tops but evidently he wasn't listening. I grimace as I see what I'm wearing. It just reminds me of the lie I have been leading. I look up at Ally who I am walking along with to the interviews with.

"What did you do again? In normal people speak?" I ask and Ally sighs.

"Right, well I basically started off with a leotard and built up. Bright lipstick red leotard to match your makeup, then add details."

I look down at my 'details'. The leotard has been lined with gold trimmed edges and some sort of glitter which makes it glimmer in the light, bouncing off my face and hair which has suddenly sprung back into its radiant gold colour, alongside me being plucked like a chicken to get rid of any hair I grew in the two weeks I spent in the arena. I also have skin coloured tights which look almost invisible, but they have flicks of gold in the too, and Zap just ended up spraying me full on with gold glitter.

"You like playing with light." I chuckle at him and he stops and looks at me, suddenly a dreamy look in his eyes.

"I like playing with you." He says cheekily.

I'm about to say some really snide comment to retort to him but I feel a weird sensation in my stomach, like the one I got before I went into the arena and Ally steps forward towards me. I don't understand what's going on so I creep backwards but Ally keeps on advancing and soon I'm pressed against a wall and Ally is right in front of me, breathing down my neck. Before I can do anything he leans forward and his lips push against mine, his body pressed up close. I struggle to push him back but I can't do anything and desperation wells up inside me. Ally ropes his arm around my back and I struggle against him, trying to hit him, but he catches my blow with his free arm. Suddenly I feel Ally jerk away from me and I let out the scream I have had enclosed throughout the whole kiss.

I look up and see Zap punch Ally in the face and I can hear the crack as Ally's jaw smashes to one side. I gasp and feel myself sink down against the wall, drooping to the floor as Ally swings a lousy punch back at Zap but Zap grabs Ally's hand and twists it around so it's behind Ally's back and he is wincing in pain.

"Are you listening?" Zap sneers and Ally stays silent, so Zap tugs on Ally's arm, making him wince, "I said, ARE YOU LISTENING?" He yells. Ally nods desperately.

"You go near her one more time and I won't stop to think about breaking your arm too, is that clear?"

Ally whimpers and Zap lets go of his arm and shoves him violently away, causing him to topple forwards and scamper out of view. Zap looks down at me, staring at awe at him from the floor. He reaches an arm out and I silently grip it and he tugs me up, his arms strong and muscular. What did Ally do? He was so nice to me, so kind. Or was that all an act? But Zap saved me. I gape at him still and then I gulp unsure of what to say.

"Where did you learn to fight like that?" I ask finally and Zap smiles at me.

"Tribute's aren't the only ones that use the training suites you know." He chuckles and then props my head up with his rough hands and bends his head down so we're even and looks at my eyes seriously.

"Are you ok Kara?"

I shudder, "I don't know, I just, well, I guess I should say thank you, for saving me. I can't believe Ally did that though, he just seemed so nice."

"That's generally the way." Zap comforts and puts a supporting hand on my shoulder.

"But I mean, how can I possibly thank you for what you did?" I ask and almost instantly regret it by the cheeky look on his face.

Zap smiles at me cheekily, "You could always kiss me instead."

I slap him playfully and Zap looks at me, shocked. I giggle. "Your face is exactly the same as Dral's when I did that to him." I say, and then I remember what happened to Dral. My face sinks drastically. Dral's dead, so is Vivian. Zap seems to have picked up on this and interrupts me from my terrible thoughts.

"Well you can always owe me a kiss. I'll save it for later." He says playfully and I reach out my hand formally and shake it.

"Deal." I joke, but part of me is unsure if it was really a joke and he will actually cash in on it later. I smile it off, it's just a joke, it has to be. Zap seems like the kind of person who always messes around. Then I look up at Zap quizzically.

"Why were you even here in the first place?" I ask him.

"So you didn't want me to intervene then?" Asks Zap and I shake my head.

"No, no, it's just... why were you here?"

"You forgot these." He says and tosses me some ridiculously high heeled red shoes. I smile back at him and slip them on. They make me at least two inches taller, I look like I could be eighteen.

"Shall we go?" He asks, upping his ridiculous Capitol accent to its maximum and lets out an arm to me which I loop mine around and I imitate him with the ridiculous uppity Capitol accent he has put on, turning my nose up and strutting like the Capitol citizens do.

"Lead the way sir, lead the way."

**I was thinking, since Gnawing Hunger is drawing to a close, that a sequel might be possible, probably since in my poll it was a very well taken idea. But I want to know what you, my dear readers think. And if I WAS to do a sequel what would I do? Would I write a new tribute from district eight's story with Kara as their mentor, Kara's struggle as she teaches tributes from eight. And yes, next year Kara becomes sixteen and with her sexy approach will she become another Finnick? Otherwise I could do a balance in between, POVs from the tributes and Kara, but I don't know if that would work. Please tell me what you think – and if I should do a sequel at all!**


	47. Chapter 47 Back with Caesar

**This is just Kara re-watching the games; she will be asked questions by Caesar in the next chapter. I'm aiming for fifty chapters, including or not including the prologue, I'm not sure. Anyway, I hope you enjoy this and vote on my poll asking whether I should have a sequel to Gnawing hunger, it's easier that way. Finally I'd like to mention that I have become a beta reader for hunger games fanfics. Mainly I'll be working on the plot though, since as you can tell by this that my plots are definitely my forte. But also I'll proof read and such. If anyone might or is writing a hunger games story and you might want some help (not that I'm a particularly good at this, well anyway) but tell me and I'll be happy to be your beta reader, I can take on as many as I want and probably will. So it would be a great honour if anyone could help me out with that, just PM me. =D**

I swagger onto the stage, trying to keep my smile up. How hard this is, pretending to be happy when I know that I'm just about to see twenty-three people die, some of them my friends, a few something more and one of them my half sister. But I have to pretend to enjoy it. _You're not in the arena now_. I remind myself, but I might as well be. I still have to lie, cheat and fight. I still have to survive. I know quite well that one step in the wrong direction could mean the end of me, though I guess Kara Jaymond ended a long time ago with the name pulled out of the reaping ball. I gulp, worried, but then banish my shaking legs and lip biting and transform into Clara, my alter ego so to speak. I smile a simpering smile and grin cheekily at the audience, or rather, Clara does.

"Hello again Kara, to tell you the truth I didn't think I was going to see you again!" Admits Caesar.

"Well you know me, I'm a survivor!" I giggle ridiculously, my rich snooty accent back on and the audience beam. I don't know how long I'll be able to keep this up, I just have to grin and bear it. I nod along to Caesar as he introduces the show and tells me about how well the film has come out according to the editors and that it is just perfect. I drift into an outer shell, dreaming in my mind as the film starts to play, I'll nod and smile and ignore it, blank it out.

"Kara. K-A-R-A."

The clip of my voice just a month or so before slings me back into reality, albeit not a very nice one. I see myself on the screen at the reapings, oh how I look so uppity, no wonder the Capitol like me. But then I see Vivian sneer at me bitterly and I feel my heartstrings twang. Vivian, my half sister, who is dead, threatening me with my life. I feel deep emotion tug through me but I look up into the face of Caesar and of the Capitol and force a tight smile, wishing I could sink down in my chair and bury my face in my hands, but this is far from over, if they see me weak now they'll know that they've been had and I'm all a lie. So I sit up straight and chuckle along with the rest of the audience, looking at the twenty-three dead children, some of which I murdered.

Then I get momentarily distracted by the chariot rides. I see the dress Ally put me into and notice how I looked I was already a winner. I look down, I still am. I'm so different from when I started, but when I look down I glimpse at the three rings on my fingers, mine, Anvike's that Precious gave me and June's. I will have to return those, I'll have to. But somehow something inside me protests, and just like how I kept my first kill's jacket I feel I have to keep these rings. But I promised June and I don't want to carry Anvike's burden any more, or mine for that matter. I scowl and look back at the screen, just to see district twelve strut off and the training scores come up. In fact, most of the attention is fixed on me, if not all of it.

The faces appear alongside the tributes, faces of the dead. I wince at every face, each one a blow to me. This is monstrous, but I can't do anything about it, I just have to sit back and put up with it. That's what you have to do with everything really, sit back and put up with it. That's what I've done with the games and that's what I'm going to have to do now.

Then the interviews start and I see Vivian glide on with the elegance of a swan and struggle to bite back tears of bitter remorse. She's dead, my half sister is dead, all because of me. I could have left instead of her, I could have been the one who went back, but no, because if I went back Dral wouldn't have killed me, because we, we, well, we felt for each other. A lot. Because, to face the facts, I love him. I love a corpse.

The games start. The gong sounds and I see them, one by one, all the tributes I kill. The boy from twelve, swerving out of the way to avoid Dral who I will end up killing anyway, the boy from seven, also to protect Dral. Then I see Daphne's shocked face as the dagger plunges through her chest, penetrating her lungs before she can even scream. Followed by Martha-Rose. I battle my eyelids ferociously not to clench them shut as I see her tumble down the crevasse again. I though the nightmare was over, yet it feels like I'm re-living it.

I see Suzie's death first though. She sees Anvike and runs to his arms in desperation, her arm infected from when June sliced it with a knife. But what's worse is that when Suzie runs into Anvike's arms, smiling, she suddenly looks down, as does the cameras, and we see the knife plunged into her stomach. I freeze, almost paralysed. That's how it ended for her. It ended like that, a knife plunged mercilessly into her stomach in a moment of joy, that's how it ended for her, that's how it was.

Then I hear Vivian's news that we're step sisters, bowling me over on the screens, I stagger and collapse then pass out. I didn't think it was like that when it happened but I guess that isn't my fault. My world had just turned upside down, I was bound to me more than a little bit confused.

I smile at the cameras, my grin as forced as my looks. This is all wrong, I feel like breaking down as Vivian explains about our family. But then the flood comes, followed by the avalanche and we meet June. At that moment I know that I'm going to have to see Vivian and Dral die. Again. I think about closing my eyes but I don't even want to know if Snow will do something to me if I do so I prop them open, trying desperately to keep them open, I have to do this, I have to.

I see the hole in June's sleeping bag before it's announced and the camera follows the trail of supplies dropped out of it. Then June tugs at my sleeve and tells us. I don't look too concerned and neither does Vivian. But she sighs and jogs off into the distance. Now the cameras follow her off into the woods. I stare blankly at her jet black hair, darker then the darkest night and then suddenly she screams. A spear is sticking out of her side and she is screaming in agony but then the cannon shot fires and the camera flicks to me running like crazy towards the root of the scream in vain, Vivian is dead.

But something doesn't seem quite right, something doesn't make sense. I look at Vivian's limp body being lifted lifelessly into the air but I don't look at the source of the camera shots on me, almost reaching the place of her death, I look at a figure crouching in a tree, spare spear in hand, taking aim at me. I gasp – Rip!

But then suddenly a sword flies through the air from the bushes beside me, ripping through the air and hitting Rip violently in the shoulder, forcing him to be knocked back and only just be able to hold onto the tree. I gasp, but the recorded me doesn't. The recorded me sees the movement in the bushes and lets a knife fly straight into heart of my protector, Dral.

The audience know I don't know about this and they do. I feel all eyes tearing into me but I am unable to keep up my happy look. A single, solitary tear trickles down my cheek and I stare shocked at the screen as it goes on, ignoring the dialogue between me and Dral and me fainting and being dragged away to a cave by June. I ignore all that, and me recovering, I even ignore June and Anvike's deaths, I just stare at the screen, seeming devoid of all emotion. What have I done? Dral didn't even kill Vivian, Rip did. I can't believe it, what did I do? What did I do?

Eventually, after I see Precious run into the forest, petrified momentarily and charge back into the path of the sea monster to save me, I gulp back all the emotions swelling inside me and focus on the final between us.

Rip seems to have been slowly dying from the wound Dral gave him. I guess even the dead can come back to haunt the living. But Dral isn't dead, not in my heart anyway. Eventually, when he is sleeping, suddenly a cannon shot fires signifying his death, and it is true. No more breathing at all, he has just died in his sleep, a death I never thought possible in the arena unless another tribute came along and slit your throat.

But then I finally do close my eyes as Precious flings her knife aside, an action which made the fight even, and locks eyes with me. I try to ignore the pain that is rippling through my body but eventually I look up and see the final shot, me looking straight into a camera and saying clearly and almost menacingly, "I always keep my promises."

**So yes, read, review, the normal. If you want me to be your beta reader or something like that say, vote in my poll to see if we should have a sequel, which I think is probable. And if it ends up like that then I need to come up with a good name for it so suggestions are very welcome.**


	48. Chapter 48 I Love You

The names of the tributes scroll down and I look at every one of them, Anvike Tall, Daphne Shoe, Cecil Rees, Jasper Knot, Sara Bolts, Dralakone Hurling, Suzie Thread, Butch Johnto, Marie Tyler, Vladimir Butcher, Martha-Rose Fall, Alan String, June Caper, Vivian Hall, Kara Jaymond, Rip Knead, Tara Dessin, Jon Cave, Naomi Jones, Alvin Smith, Maya Horton, Leon Ripe, Tamsen Heart. Then the screen goes blank and Caesar turns to me. Little have I noticed, I have tears welling in my eyes so I wipe them ferociously with the back of my hand, let's get this over and done with shall we? Caesar smile encouragingly and looks me in the eye, but I'm not looking at him, I'm staring at the face of Zap in the audience, his smile encouraging and his face happy in such a desperation I am unsure whether it is true or not. I don't care, I just don't care.

"How did you find that?"

I look around to see who Caesar is talking to and then remember it's me, he's always talking to me. How did I find it? No amount of buttered lies could disclose the truth of repulsion evident on my face. The look I am giving the Capitol is one of pure hatred, pure loathing. I hate them, I really do. This is monstrous. But I don't say that. I just wipe the look of hatred off my face and replace it with a small, cautious smile.

"Give my praise to the editors, they did a very good job." I murmur. And they did, it was a very good film, or it would have been if those deaths that I saw hadn't been real, if the reality show hadn't just stared me in the face. It was real, it was all real. I was there.

"Now Kara, what do you feel when I say that you killed the most tributes in the arena?" Caesar asks. I know what I should say, overjoyed, surprised, ecstatic, shocked, amazed. But no, I just open my mouth and blurt out the word before I can hold it back.

"Repulsed."

The audience stare at me, shocked, as does Caesar, but he just lets out a small smile and tries to cover it up, but he can only do so by me covering it up. And I don't want to do that, I want to yell and scream and kick about how these games have ruined my life, about how they are monstrous and cruel. But no, instead I can only murmur a single word of rebellion, and not even a very strong one. I just hope someone is braver then me in the future.

"How so?" Asks Caesar.

"I didn't want to kill, but I had to. But still I feel that every death is a burden on my shoulders, a burden I do not want to bear. But I killed and I live Caesar, I killed and I live."

"So how did you get in with the careers?" Caesar asks, trying to carry on and succeeding quite well.

"The careers? Oh, it was easy. My training score speaks for it, doesn't it?" And then I'm gone and Clara has butted in, taken over. And I'm glad. Throughout these games they've only seen glimpses of me, the real me. So as I automatically flirt and gossip and chat I am actually thinking, waiting, watching. And somehow I know Zap senses it, somehow I know I do too. Finally Caesar comes to his last question.

"So, last of all Kara, here's the big question, why do you think you won these games?"

I shiver, it's now or never, I can speak out or stay back, but I decide to tell the truth, honestly. "I think I won this year's hunger games because of Precious, because of Vivian, Suzie, Dral, June and Precious. My allies have all helped me through and saved my life times over. But really it was Precious. It was her action in the final fight, the final struggle. She flung down that knife, she flung it to the ground, and if she hadn't done that act of fairness then she would be here today and I would be dead."

I feel quite shocked about what I have said and evidently so does the audience but I look up at the camera, "It's the truth."

Then slowly someone starts clapping in the audience, a solitary single beat and then it grows until the whole of the audience is roaring in approval. What did I say? Has no-one ever said that before? Then I notice, no, they haven't. They always talk about them and how certain actions they did saved themselves, but I just talked about other tributes saving me which is the truth.

"Thank you Kara! Now I know you think this is the end of the interview, but we have a special surprise for you!"

I freeze at Caesar's words, a surprise? What sort of a surprise?

"We've shipped someone over to see you all the way from district eight!"

I look up at Caesar's words and then see him, my father, smiling awkwardly at me from the corner of the room. The whole world seems to slow down, Caesar's words just a brief humming in my ears and the audience surrounding me a blur of colours and shapes. My eyes are transfixed at my father in front of me and I leap to my feet, springing out of my chair. I ignore the cameras, they don't matter, nothing matters apart from my father.

But what will he think of me? I am a murderer and I have pretended, I am no longer his daughter, in these few weeks he has seen me undergo so much and by the look of him he has been through the same but ten times worse. His hair, previously having just streaks of grey, is now a steady dull colour. His eyes are drooped and it looks like he hasn't slept at all since I last saw him. His face is weathered, eroded and beaten like the rest of his body. But he looks happy, a smile brightens up his depressed face and his arms stretch out, beckoning me into a hug. Before I can stop and think I charge across the stage and leap off it in one giant bound, landing right next to my father.

I only pause for a second before letting him wrap his hands around me and burying my face in h8is shoulder. It's alright, I'm safe, I'm fine. And I find myself repeating the same phrase again and again and again, repetitively,

"I love you, I love you dad. Oh dad I love you, I love you so much."

And for that moment there is no Capitol or districts or audience or hunger games, there is just me and my father and my words, stinging the air around us and drawing a protective bubble.

_I love you._

**It's almost over, just one more chapter, the epilogue and then it is the end of Gnawing Hunger! Though I have decided that I will do a sequel to it, I am unsure what I should call it. The epilogue for this will double up as all of or part of the prologue for the sequel. Any ideas of what to call it are really welcome!**

**Thinking about it, I have written this, well, this book, in half a term, which is basically a sixth of a year. In just a few, I don't know how many weeks, this has been written by me in record time! But I'll blab on about that in the author's note at the end!**


	49. Chapter 49 Won't Go Down Without A Fight

**After this there shall be a prologue which should be or lead onto the first chapter of the sequel to Gnawing Hunger. I have no idea what to call it though, so when it goes up I'd love it if you could all help me out and come up with some good ideas for names so I can draft a poll and decide on a good name for a sequel!**

**Oh, and if you have no idea how I can do a sequel never fear because I already have evil scheming plotting in my brain, cunning and clever. I know what I'm going to do... kind of. Kara's basically going to become a mentor and teach tributes and I'm going to jolt up a bit of romance and drama and general hunger games fun!**

In the end they had to prise me and my father apart. I smile meekly at the memory, I love him, I really do. But now isn't the time for me to be thinking about my father, now is the time for me to be thinking about myself. I read what I have written about each tribute, a miniscule strip of paper containing so much feeling and I gulp in air. What did I put again? I touch the paper and read them, one by one. For the victory tour, which will last several weeks, I will be forced to present feelings, messages to the families and districts of the tributes who died. I find it hard to inhale air as I look at what I have written. As asked I have made them quick, but I also have made them heartfelt. I look over them, scanning them with my eyes. I will say separate ones for each tribute on the victory tour, but when I'm in the Capitol I will have to talk about the other seven tributes who made it into the final eight alongside me.

_These games have been some of the most eventful games in history and I am just going to say a few short words toward my fellow contestants who got so far, into the final eight, but didn't make it to where I am today. There are seven of them, but without four of the seven I wouldn't be standing where I am today._

_I was there when Anvike Tall died and I knew he was determined to the last moment, he knew what he was up against and he was truly a contender, truly. He was a fighter, a real fighter, and if it wasn't for Precious I wouldn't be alive here today. I have his token here, his token, and I would like for it to go on Precious' grave because she really had no control on who she fell in love with and it really isn't her fault at all, for as I have learnt, the hunger games is really no place for love._

_I thought Precious Good was a cruel and shallow career but I was so, so wrong. She was kind and merciful and we didn't just become allies when she spared my life, we almost became friends. In the final fight between us, Precious being the last contestant along with me, threw her knife aside to make it fair. If she hadn't she would have made it instead of me. She loved her family though and was trying desperately to get back, she loved her family so, so much and you remember that._

_Now I feel that I have to say more than a few words for Dralakone Hurling, but I really don't know what to say. Dral was brave, kind and loving and he showed that in the arena with me, towards me. And when I said that I loved him I wasn't lying; I didn't love him for who he was in the games, I loved him for who he was as a person. In fact, I didn't just love him then, I still love him. Dral was and still is in my heart and should be in all of yours. What I did I had no idea about, no idea at all. I thought, well, you know what I thought. I didn't know it was Dral because if I did things would have gone differently, I can promise you that. And in the end, the very end, it was Dral, Dral was trying to protect me and he did, so thanks to Dralakone Hurling I am still alive today._

_Now I better say about June, June Caper. As I held her in my arms as she died, ignoring the sword pointing at me, she pressed her district token into my hand, telling, asking me to give it to her parents and so I shall. It is rightfully theirs and is what June wanted, because June wasn't just independent and kind, she was a survivor and that's what really the hunger games is all about, surviving. And June made me survive, June made me win. She didn't just nurse my physical wounds, she saved my mental mind as well and I might have become mad if I hadn't been for her._

_Vivian Hall, my maid, my friend, my half sister. She died, she died and I wasn't there. She has no-one in the world so I really shouldn't have to say this since she has no family, but I do have to, for myself and for Vivian. She was one of the kindest people I have ever met. Her heart was not made out of coal as it was portrayed, but gold. I never really understood her and I still don't but the one thing I know about her for sure is that she is my half sister and she didn't deserve to die as much as I do. She should have won, not me. She should have won._

_I actually didn't see Rip Knead in the whole of the games but with his nine in training I was quite surprised. He got into the final three but I didn't see him, he was just there and then he wasn't. He did totally unsuspected things and I find myself wondering what he really was like. If I could go back and find out I would, but I can't. I can't go back and change things and if I could things might have turned out differently, but not so. I am your victor not the others and that is just how it is._

_Alvin Smith just got into the final eight and to be totally honest I didn't know much about him and still don't. Except I know he must have been good, very good. He outlived three careers and a lot more tributes still. He could survive, that's what matters really, he could survive and he did and in the end it wasn't the end of a tribute's sword that got him, it was a flood, a Gamemaker trap._

_These were the people, children, I was competing against and now it's over, it's over until next year. But none of these had any dishonour, not a single one. So I want all of you to keep fond pictures of these people in your hearts and know that every single one of them went down fighting._

I bite back tears as I read it in my head. The last sentence echoes around my head, chilling my bones. _Every single one of them went down fighting. Every single one of them went down fighting. Every single one of them went down fighting._

I hear a knock on the door and nod, it's time for me to go out and face the audience. I close my eyes shut and then open them again, my face one of sheer determination and strength. The Capitol will try to control me, model me. I know, I know. But I know something else, I'm not the type of person that can be modelled easily without trouble and believe me when I say there will be trouble if they try anything, anything at all. I will not become another Finnick Odair, I will not bend down to their will and I will NOT sit by and watch my loved ones die, powerless to stop them as I was with Vivian in the arena. Every single one of them went down fighting and so shall I.

**And that is the end of Gnawing Hunger! I think I've agreed with myself that a sequel should really happen so I think that the epilogue next will also be the prologue in my sequel, with a name which is yet to be decided on. I'll ask about it as soon as the epilogue is up! An A/N will go with it too so thank you everyone for putting up with me since Gnawing Hunger is over! D=**


	50. Chapter 50 Epilogue, AN and Links

**Epilogue**

_I look at myself in the mirror this morning and notice a difference from yesterday. My hair is still golden and luscious, my face still unreachable and powerful, I still look the same. There is no visible change to me, not since I won the hunger games, unlike my father who wore down at every stunt I pulled, every person I killed. They still haunt me at night, in nightmares. But during the day I am safe, during the day I am protected. My father has changed considerably since I was reaped. But me? No. I do not look different but I act different, I am always alert, ready. I am no longer so stuck up, I have began to treasure human life and the lesson that Vivian taught me was that I should be kind to others. It doesn't mean I'm always nice, I mean, I'm human. But I try. But really that is beside the point. I have changed since yesterday, though I am not doing anything differently. I am just the same old me, the same old Kara Jaymond. But I am sixteen._

_My reflection still stares back and I pick up my ring from my bedside table. It is three rings welded together. It may look like nothing but it means more to me than anything else in the world. The centre ring was my mothers; it is a deep blue sapphire which twinkles like my eyes, resting on a single gold loop. Below it is a pearl, attached to a gold loop, just as my sapphire was. I promised June I'd give it to her mother and I did. But her mother didn't want it and I saw her chuck it into the street as soon as I handed it to her. So I went back and scrabbled around in the dirt until I found it and convinced the local blacksmith to weld them together to make a double ring._

_Then I examine the third and final part of this ring. This was given to me by Precious Good and is Anvike Tall's ring, it was his district token. He gave it to her but she couldn't bear the burden so she gave it to me. I was going to put it on her grave but then I remembered her telling me that she didn't want it, that it haunted her, so I attached the silver ring onto mine, the heart shaped diamond winking at me from the top. It could have looked a lot prettier and with my new found wealth and my home in victor's village but no, I kept it as it is, I've had enough of the Capitol enhancing the way I look, yet alone changing my life._

_But as I know it's my birthday I also know one other thing, the reaping is in a week. The thought almost paralyses me. The reaping, just under one year ago my life was turned upside down when I was reaped into the hunger games alongside, alongside... Vivian._

_I don't want to think about it, I just don't. But the faces grin at me from inside my mind, Dral, Vivian, June, Precious. Dead, dead, DEAD! I clasp my head and fall back onto my bed, my thoughts confused. They're dead, all dead, I mustn't blame myself though, I've had enough of blaming myself. It was the Capitol that did that to them, not me, the Capitol._

_I gulp back tears and stagger downstairs, gripping the banister. I am still wearing my pajamas when I get down to the bottom of the stairs and become face to face with dad. I smile a warm, coaxing smile. Dad. His health hasn't been looking too great but that shouldn't be a problem, he'll be fine. He's always fine. But dad doesn't return the smile and I look at him, puzzled._

"_Dad, what's wrong?" I ask but then freeze when I see the door to his study behind him left open slightly ajar and the man sitting on the desk, smiling at us as if we were just small ants he is examining, petty and feeble and easy to crush. I look up and dad and he gives me a scared look and I slowly walk past him and knock onto the door of the study. If Snow's here it can't be too good, if Snow's here the tiny sanction I have built up around myself and my father will be flattened, badly._

"_Enter." A voice rasps, his voice, president Snow's voice. I shiver at the maliciousness and enter, only realizing when I get in that I am only in my pajamas. I stare awkwardly at Snow who is tapping a pen on my father's table, creating a steady beat. He beckons for me to sit down and reluctantly I draw back the chair opposite and place myself on it, remaining alert and careful. Snow looks up from the table and his eyes lock with mine. I don't blink or even flinch and I can smell the sweet scent of roses mingled with blood from his mouth. I don't even want to know what the blood is from; I just want to know why Snow is here, in both me and my father's house. His eyes break from mine and he spends a minute looking at me, his eyes scanning me as a jaguar would do to its prey, then he silently gets up and heads towards the door. But I can't let him go. What is he doing here?_

"_Why did you come here?" I ask and Snow looks at me and smiles, a bitter, cold, reluctant smile which sends shivers of fear down my spine and makes me freeze, as if paralysed, in the seat in my own house, scared out of my wits. So I just stay still, his malicious smile breaking my thoughts. Then his mouth twists out of a smile and grimaces at me, then lets out a few words which stick to my consciousness, creating fear and terror to say the least._

"_To see you Kara Jaymond. To see you."_

* * *

><p><strong>So there it is, the end of Gnawing Hunger and its epilogue. But it's not the end of Kara or her story. I have a sequel and a prequel out there for you to enjoy too!<strong>

**Now I want to say a thank you to everyone who has reviewed and a special thank you to my first proper reviewers, tmousey21 and Let The Foxx Fly who have been following me all through this. And a huge thank you to anyone who has read all of this and I hope that this maybe inspired you to write something long too because this is my first long story I've written, before this everything was just a few pages but this along with your amazing reviewing has started to convince me that maybe I could get something published, but that's really a dream for the future, at least ten years anyway, maybe more.**

**I have to also say that this was done in record time! I wrote this in about a quarter of a year, so if you think of it like that you probably notice how much I have dedicated to this. I'm actually sad it's over now, I was getting really attached to Kara, but I guess that's why I'm writing a sequel and prequel, I just couldn't bear the thought of letting her go! I have done so many Gnawing hunger related things it's ridiculous, I even drew pictures of all of Kara's outfits and have a giant map of the arena in my room! I tried drawing the characters but decided that it wasn't such a good idea really after such a failed attempt. The sequel is probably going to be more like the other hunger games books, the second and the third, but I didn't like those as much as the first so I am going to try and get it to be more like this! Below is the Gnawing Hunger related things I have put up and a brief summary about what they are as well as a link to get to them.**

**For the link just put 'h_t_t_p_:_w_w_w_._f_a_n_f_i_c_t_i_o_n (without the underscores) in front of each one.**

**Enter The Everlasting Black – The songs from Gnawing hunger re-sang but in different one-shots by different people in different circumstances. But all of the people have a connection to characters in Gnawing hunger.**

**.net/s/7011898/1/Enter_the_Everlasting_Black**

**The Realisation of Hunger – A collection of one-shots from Gnawing Hunger such as hidden scenes and ones from different people's eyes. I take requests of what to do!**

**.net/s/6918320/1/The_Realisation_of_Hunger**

**Shattered Hearts – The sequel to Gnawing Hunger. Kara Jaymond may have won the hunger games but it's far from over. Forced to mentor tributes and with a much worse fate hanging in the air, Kara has to make a decision which will either make her or break her.**

**.net/s/7065896/1/Shattered_Hearts**

**Falling For Him – The prequel to Gnawing hunger. "I, Marie Eyre, am getting married today. And I'm pregnant with another man's child." You only heard a brief glimpse about what really happened with Kara's parents. A tale full of deceit, lies, class division and forbidden love. Not to mention the hunger games.**

**.net/s/7071486/1/Falling_For_Him**

**Yes, so this is officially the end of Gnawing Hunger, but like I said before, there is a sequel and a prequel, just I hope you prefer their names than 'Gnawing Hunger'. Believe it or not, originally this was called 'Kara's Hunger Games', then I called it 'Kill or be Killed' and finally I settled on 'Gnawing Hunger'. **

**Thank you so much again to everyone who has read and reviewed this far and remember, if you want a beta reader I'm just a PM away! I really hope you enjoyed this!**

**~SneverusSnapers**


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